Lost
by Cairis Rin
Summary: It's about survival in a jungle - I suppose it's a bit castawayish. o.o er, maybe not
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I'm only doing this here on the first chapter, so listen up. I don't own em, I didn't creat the universe, I just like playing around in it.

Rating: I left it at PG-13 because there's nothing explicit. There is however reference to gore, an occasional detail or two, that's it. This is mostly a drama, broody from time to time, a bit of action from time to time, etc

Author's Note: This, my friends, is one of my emotion stories. They happen mostly as a vent for some intense emotional outburst, which lately, has been more often than I'd like. -.- I've got a fair bit done already, but it'll be a few days between each post and hopefully-  
Katchi: she won't catch up with herself. -.-   
CairisRin: Katchi! ^.^ Stupid muse!  
Katchi: Don't worry folks, I'm full of broody ideas!  
CairisRin: ~.~

Second Author's Note: (Skip down to the story if you don't want to read about me whining)  
Can I just say AHHHHH! AmethystStone, where did you go? O.O I only made it through one of your stories when suddenly the rest went *poof* and no more cool torture fics! Arg! *pout* Flamers be damned! They were funny and cool, and torturous and nifty and addicting, do you hear me _addicting!!_ and *sniff* if there's any chance at all that I can read them...*sniff sniff* please...can I? Can anyone help me? *begs*  
Katchi looks at CairisRin in shock, then horror: Ewww! Stop that! You're getting my fur all wet!!  
CairisRin sniffs loudly: Sorry, I'm okay now. All you nice people can read the story now...I'm okay...really...

----

There was a steady rhythm pounding in his ears, drawing him slowly from the black of unconsciousness. Overhead, the call of a birds echoed, and he could vaguely make out the rustle of the leaves, but it all came sluggishly to his awareness. 

Joe Hardy slowly opened his eyes but most of what he saw didn't make any sense. Feeling dizzy he twisted about trying to figure out where he was. The slight movement sent jolts of pain through an aching stiff body, bringing tears to his eyes and turning the world upside down once again.

It was a while before he'd managed to get his breathing under control and dared to once more open his eyes. Things were still fuzzy, shadows intermixing with the broken streams of light, but slowly the confusion eased away. 

Turning, this time with substantially less pain and more numbness, Joe found himself in the belly of a helicopter, or what was left of it. The wall that had separated the pilots from the back was savagely ripped asunder, half of the nose and body of the helicopter smashed into the ground. Both pilots were dead, one, as crumpled as the side of the helicopter, and the other, speared through the gut by a broken tree that had not only had enough force to scour the pilot but the dividing wall and the man on the other side as well. 

Had the tree missed the third occupant, it wouldn't have much mattered, for he wasn't fully there anyway, and Joe realized with a jolt just how much gore was displaced about the copter's remains. Stumbling out through the torn door into the fresh air, he sank to the ground and quickly gave up anything his stomach had to offer. 

Sight leaving him again, Joe half stumbled, half crawled, from the smell of his own vomit till his back hit something hard and he sat still. The truth was he didn't think he had the energy to even see what it was. Strange pains were plaguing his body and it felt like his movements where being restricted, but he just couldn't reason why. Nothing was making any sense. What happened? His mind fuzzily questioned, though he couldn't hold any thought long enough to answer.

He wasn't sure how much time passed as the blackness hovered at the edge of his consciousness, or if he'd really even been awake, but when the chill wind seemed to brake through to his senses like a breath of life Joe cautiously opened his eyes again and looked about. Gratefully, things didn't turn as they had before, and for the first time that day, the world didn't seem so muddled. 

Blinking against a dimming light, Joe looked up through the mass of jungle trees that surrounded him to the pink sky above. The sun was going down. The temperature although still fairly warm would be cooling soon with the lack of clouds to keep the heat in. Almost idly, Joe looked to the crumpled hull. It stood out like an abnormal rock, broken trees and shrubs leaving a scar in the jungle to mark the direction the helicopter had crashed from. But the jungle was thick, and Joe didn't think it'd suffer for long from its injury. 

Then Joe looked down at himself, almost retching again from the sight of what covered his clothes. It was then that he realized he was handcuffed. But why...?

Memories flooded back with alarming speed. Memories of the diamond smugglers Joe and his brother Frank had stumbled across while on vacation in the Bahamas. Smugglers, three of which were now dead, the fourth must have either survived or fallen out- 

With a sudden choking breath, Joe remembered further back, how the helicopter had gone down to begin with. 

They'd been caught. The smugglers were going to kill them. There'd been a struggle. Joe remembered the gun had gone off. Remembered that Frank had been pushed out of the helicopter door... had fallen. And in the next moment the helicopter was going crazy, plummeting to the ground. 

But there's no way Frank- Joe hesitantly breathed in, closing his eyes against the thought, although his heart knew the truth. There was no way Frank could have survived the fall. 

Hot tears silently rolled down his cheeks, his throat burning with suppressed grief. It wasn't long before it overwhelmed him, and with a shuddering sob, Joe curled tightly on his side against the tree at his back. Pains shot along his arms unnoticed as the emotional turmoil of all that had happened in such a shockingly short amount of time consumed his mind. Broken sobs and ragged breaths joined the normal jungle harmony as the night fully descended, wrapping Joe and his grief in a blanket of darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Oiy, thanks for the great reviews! :D Um, okay, so...Frank does show up eventually...um...ya.   
Katchi: Cairis!!! You're not supposed to tell them that!!  
CairisRin: *innocent look* but they wanted to know. And what if they went away cause there was no Frank? I might go away with no Frank. He's not in this chapter, sure...*continues rambling about cute men, readers, and raspberry custard tarts*  
Katchi: O.O -.- *grumbles*

Author's Note 2: When I first started this it was going to be in the middle of the Amazon, but my mind kept mentally placing it in Jurassic Park. -.- Realizing having dinosaurs wasn't likely a good idea, not to mention there's no coconuts there (and I'd already written them in), I found a compromise. Funny how things like that happen. This story is writing itself folks! Enjoy! :D

Author's Note 3: (more ranting, skip to story at your convenience)  
Arg!!! Miss Stone! *sniff* I know you like to torture Frank and Joe but I had no idea you'd torture me, too! Merf! I noticed you reviewed, except...*sniff* except...*wails* please oh please can I read your missing stories!!!   
Katchi: Ieee!!! Woman, get a grip! *CairisRin grips Katchi tightly about the neck and soabs into his furry chest* *strangled cry* Not me! Baka!   
CairisRin: Sorry...*sniffs loudly but releases her strangle hold on her muse* I'd take anything, you know, an email, promise they'll be reposted, some mystic way of suddenly knowing where to find them at some secret URL...  
Katchi: What is it with you and addictions anyway!  
CairisRin: Like you can talk! You start half of them…*grumble*...all right, all right. If this doesn't work, I'll post the rest of the chapter's sans-ranting.  
Katchi: Any chance you can _write_ them sans-ranting?  
CairisRin: Um...no.  
Katchi: -.- I had to ask.

----

Morning came slow and silent. The damp earth was cold against Joe's wet cheeks, and he found he was shivering from the chill. Cracking open sore and puffy eyes, Joe numbly gazed at the metal contortion still in front of him. His side and chest hurt, a dull ache moving in turn with the throbbing between his ears. His arms hurt. 

The left arm had sharp pains that cursed up and down and into his shoulder. Slowing sitting up leaves and dirt fell away in small chunks from his face and clothes and the pain in his arm first shrieked in defiance then receded back to the sharp but tolerable discomfort he'd woken to. He'd been laying on it. Completely embedded in the upper portion of his arm was a thick metal shard. Later examination of his body would reveal other small lacerations caused by the raggedly torn helicopter, but nothing as bad. His right arm hung loosely at his side, the shoulder sitting oddly forward, and his fingers not completely responsive. Yet for the most part it didn't hurt, feeling only numb and a bit tingly, as if it'd fallen asleep a while ago and didn't plan on waking up. 

Joe frowned, staring at the disjointed looking arm for a while before he realized it was dislocated. Stiff, sore, and completely exhausted, although Joe imaged the latter was more from the night of crying than the crash, he carefully pulled his feet under him and using the tree for support pushed himself upright. 

"First things first," he breathed, briefly closing his eyes to force himself to relax. Relieved to find his legs would hold him, although grudgingly, Joe turned to face the tree, then with as much strength as he could muster slammed his right shoulder into the thick trunk. A cry of pain escaped his lips as his arm came to life in a violent outburst of expression. Growling out his frustration, Joe did it again, and again, each time harder than the first till at last he felt the crack and pop of his shoulder finding it's way back into its socket. A rush of feeling returned to his fingers and the arm went from a state of numbness to a state of sharp pins and needles while the blood returned to its normal circulation. 

Breathing quickly, Joe let himself lean against the tree for a while before stepping away. Haunted eyes turned once again to the helicopter remains. He'd have to see about the cuffs next, and salvage what he could, a first-aid box if it was there, but for all his mind told him he needed to, he didn't want to go back in. 

It was several more minutes before he felt he had the courage to do it, and with a last deep breath ducked back through the jagged opening in the hull. The gruesome scene had only gotten worse with the day of decay, and for once Joe was glad his stomach was empty. Cringing the entire time, Joe awkwardly searched the pockets of the smugglers, trying not to breathe in deeply, as he had to squeeze through the crushed section to reach the pilots. He didn't find the handcuff keys as he had hoped but he did find a lighter and quickly pocketed it. After a moment more of edgily picking through remains, Joe finally decided it wasn't worth it, and moving back to the main hull picked up a sliver of metal to use instead. 

It took a bit, his hands slippery and shaking, but the impromptu lock pick was enough and the cuffs soon fell to the floor. Joe wanted to dash out as fast as he could, he was keeping his breath shallow, but even that wasn't much help and the whole of his body felt sick to the core. Briefly closing his eyes from the horror around him, Joe whispered, "You can do this." He needed to find what he could. He needed to do it now, or he'd never convince himself to come back. Almost all vehicles had a first aid box; this helicopter shouldn't be any different. Under the seats most likely.

Pulling up the seat he'd originally been on did in fact reveal an emergency compartment and a plastic box inside. Opening it, Joe was grateful to find a flare gun and two spare cartridges. Of the four seats, two had been completely smashed and torn to bits, and the last was under the speared mutilation of the third smuggler. 

The seat might hold nothing, but if there was even a chance it had the first aid kit Joe had to take it. Steeling himself, the young Hardy took a grip on the dread man's jacket and bracing his legs against the seats pulled. His arms shrieking in protest, the body began to move inch by inch till it had finally come off the wooden scour and Joe and the body fell to the torn floor. Stomach rolling in disgust, Joe hastily pushed it away from him backing into the opposite corner. Clothes soiled worse than before, Joe forced himself to swallow the rising vile and shakily pulled up the remaining seat. There wasn't a first aid kit, but there was a large waterproof flashlight and a small stack of three red tarps. 

Exhausted, Joe sank to the floor, a hand covering his face. The first-aid kit must have been in one of the other seats. Sitting numbly, his eyes closed in defeat, Joe breathed as shallowly as possible to keep the smell away, and tried to think. Silently he wished Frank were there. He didn't know what to do next. In the helicopter he thought they'd been out over the ocean, so it was likely this was some sort of island, but populated or not, he didn't know. He didn't really care.

"Stop it Joe!" He suddenly growled out, fighting the wave of self-pity that had been silently growing. "Frank would never have wanted you to give up!" He berated himself sternly. He knew his brother was dead, but thinking of him seemed to give him the strength to keep moving, and resolutely, Joe picked himself up, exiting the smashed helicopter and taking a relieved breath of fresh air.

He would have to make his way towards shore, Joe surmised quietly, or towards something anyway if he wanted to get an understanding of where he was. Currently all he could see was jungle. 

It took him a while to completely salvage everything he could, but he figured it didn't really matter if it took him some time. He also never really got used to the gore, but by the time he was ready to leave, he'd stripped the one intact body of its clothes planing to use the cloth as bandages when he could get them cleaned. For now, they had created a rough bundle to hold everything else. The flashlight, tarps, flare, a piece of the hull that had broken off that Joe figured he could pound into a bowl, another piece for a pan, and a sturdy jagged slice that held well in his hand. It wouldn't make a bad knife once the edge was worn smooth. 

It'd be a long while before he got to any of that, but for now he set off, grateful to be finally leaving the crash site. It didn't take long before the exhaustion set in again. The jungle growth was thick, and he was famished and dehydrated. The heat and humidity had grown quickly with the rising of the sun and Joe found he had to pause often to catch his breath. Sighing heavily and once again resisting the urge to gag from his own stink, Joe tiredly sank to the ground for a break, stretching his back against a tree as he drowsily looked skyward. 

The palm leaves above him blew with a soft rustle, the wind gently whipping at its top. No breeze reached the jungle floor but just seeing it made Joe feel a little better. Then he realized with a start that he was staring up a palm tree.

Excitedly looking about, it took him a bit to locate a fallen coconut, they didn't look the same as the ones in the grocery store, but shaking it he could hear the audible swoosh of liquid. Sitting down hard with the prized object between his knees, a silly grin spreading across his face, Joe dug out the would-be knife to begin hacking away at the outer husk. 

With a bit of effort the protective covering finally came away leaving the normal looking brown shell exposed. It took a bit more before he was actually able to pierce the coconut itself and lost a lot of the milk to his hands when he did, but the warm liquid felt like heaven to his pasty throat. 

It wasn't until the second swallow that he almost gagged on the taste. 

Still, it was liquid, and when it was gone Joe tore the fruit apart to get at the meat, hungrily scraping it off and consuming as much as he could. Coconuts seemed to be in abundance, and Joe stopped frequently to crack them open. The taste of the oily coconut quickly became gross to him, but even if he didn't feel hungry he forced himself to drink the milk, scrapping the meat off and packing it between the folds of one of the tarps for later. It didn't feel right to leave it to waste. He even saved a couple of shells that had managed to crack with minimal damage. 

As fortune would have it, after just another couple hours of walking he stumbled across a small streambed at the opening of a decently sized watering hole. Feeling a rush of relief, Joe almost splashed right in, but at the last second stopped himself. This could be the only source of fresh water around, if it _was_ fresh water. Yet casting his eyes about he spotted several bird tracks in dried and stamped into the water's muddy rim. Edging cautiously forward, Joe took one of the coconut husks and scooped up a bowl of water where the stream trickled in. 

The water tasted dirty with a funny tang, not at all like bottled mountain spring water, but it didn't smell fermented or salty. That was good enough for him. He took another deep mouthful, swishing it about in his mouth before swallowing then waited a minute to see if it'd have any immediate reactions, but other than the queasy stomach from a day's diet of coconut, he didn't feel all that much worse for wear. 

Cautiously stepping away, Joe kept strict care to not risk contaminating the water. The day would be ending soon, this was as good a place as ever to stop and he found a small clearing not too far away that could work as a campsite. 

Dropping the grubby bag, Joe spent several minutes just staring at the ground thinking. 

A campsite. 

His mind automatically went over what a campsite generally included. Tent, fire, and roasted marshmallows. The marshmallows were a luxury he'd be craving the rest of the night and the tent he could do without if he wrapped himself in one of the tarps. The fire was another problem. 

He pulled the lighter from his pocket and gave it a few flicks. Sparks flew and a nice little flame popped up. Joe looked around, he had flame, but he'd need wood. 

The wood didn't end up as hard to find as the tinder did. Joe had cleared a spot and tried various things, twigs, bark pieces, dried leaves, but nothing stayed lit long enough to start any real blaze and he was afraid he would use up the lighter fluid in his attempts. He leaned back frustrated, feeling very much like cursing the unyielding fire pit. Instead he settled for simply glaring at it.

It was strange, but without anyone around he didn't feel the need to talk, was afraid to actually. He didn't want to hear his own voice echo come back unanswered. 

What was it Frank had told him once? Palm trees were highly flammable, right? But he'd tried some of the fallen fronds, and they'd just smoked. Thinking a moment, Joe tiredly pulled himself back to his feet and went in search of the brown dried out husk pieces from long past coconuts. He found a few clumps as well as the stringy ends of bark that shed when the trees dropped their fronds. Settling back in front of the pit Joe began pulling the fibers apart to make a soft tangle that he placed between his teepee of twigs. Leaning forward he tried once more. It didn't take more than a chance for the flame to catch at the soft brambles before it took a life of its own and hungrily ate up what was there. 

Leaning back surprised, Joe hurriedly ripped off more, feeding the flame until the twigs finally took and a steady fire was rising from the pit. Carefully Joe piled his collected bits of wood around it and sat back staring in amazement at the yellow and orange embers. 

The warmth felt good against his face, and a large part of him wanted to just curl up right there and sleep the night away, but even as he sat, his mind traveled back unwillingly to the accident, to Frank falling...

Joe shook himself, there was more he had to do, he couldn't let himself sleep yet. 

The water felt good on his face. He didn't dare wash near the waterhole so it took many trips with just the two coconuts before Joe felt even a fraction cleaner. More than dirt and mud had been caked on his face and the more that came off the more Joe didn't want to think about it. He desperately wanted to just strip down and toss all the clothes into the fire, burn away all that had happened, but even if he was the only person around Joe didn't think running rampant through a jungle stark naked was the best of ideas. 

"Wouldn't that be a sight," Joe murmured with a chuckle, but the humor quickly faded from his countenance. It still hadn't settled into his mind that he was alone here. A part of him just kept expecting to hear Frank behind him, hear his brother make some sort of retort or 'matter of fact' comment, but no one had responded.

With another sigh Joe went for more water. 

He'd have to wait till morning to try and clean his clothes. The chill of night was already setting in and the light quickly fading. He did take the most decent strip of cloth from what he'd brought and cleaned it. The metal shard was still wedged in his arm and it needed to come out. 

Joe's entire arm throbbed. He'd been ignoring the pain to use the arm anyway, but he knew it would only get worse if he didn't take care of it now. Carefully prying his jacket off Joe examined the wound closer. The metal piece stuck out right below the cut of the sleeve in his tee shirt and the edge of skin around it was caked with blood and dried puss. Signs of an infection.

With the clean cloth ready Joe took the thick metal piece that would be his knife to the edge of a smooth rock working away at the roughest bits while a coconut bowl of water sat boiling over the fire. The rim of the coconut shell was already blackened where the water had evaporated when Joe finally got back to it, but he was pleased when he lost only a little of the water as he nimbly yanked the bowl back out. That just left the knife to be heated. Joe wrapped the clean strip of cloth around it to use for a handle, although he wasn't sure how much protection it'd be with the cloth still wet. 

He had the second coconut bowl as well as the metal bowl already filled with the spring water. A lot of blood would come out as soon as he pulled the shard from his arm, Joe knew, and he wanted to be prepare for as much as he could. "If that were possible," he grumbled to himself. 

"Here goes." He gripped the end of the shard tightly and pulled. He'd rather have pulled fast and hard, the way he preferred to take a Band-Aids off, but the shock of it would have been too much. So instead Joe pulled slow and steadily, gritting his teeth and wishing suddenly he'd thought of a bit to clench down on, until the metal shard at last came sliding free. 

Blood rushed from the wound like a fountain of red, coating his arm right down to the fingertips. Frantically Joe clutched at his arm, trying to stop the torrent. The shard must of nicked the artery, or completely ripped through it, he thought with a panic, then realized if it had taken the whole artery his arm would have already started decaying by now, and it hadn't. 

Inching closer to the large metal bowl, he dunked the whole arm and hand in as best he could, the water turning instantly a muddy red. He needed to find the infection, cut it out, and cauterize the wound, quickly. Joe hoarsely chuckled, idly wondering if he managed this if his science teacher would let him skip the dissection part of the course this year. 

Belatedly, Joe thought of tying his belt around his arm to cut off the pressure point and for a few desperate moments wondered if he still could, but he was practically immobile as it was. He wouldn't have long to work as soon as he released the pressure on the wound. Clenching his jaw even harder against the pain he figured he'd just have to deal, and with a hissing breath pulled his arm back out of the water. 

All as once he grabbed the other bowl dumping it on the wound and then half the bowl of hot water. It burned savagely as it ran down his arm, but it was enough finally to clean the wound to work with it. To his benefit the blood had slowed considerably and he could see where clots of infection lay amidst the exposed rags of muscle. 

Grabbing up the knife and ignoring the intensely burning sensation in his hand, Joe turned the tip of the sharpest edge to his skin, hissing even harder as it seared away the infected parts. As quickly as he worked the wound soon filled again with blood. Hoping for the best, Joe dumped the last of the hot water on the wound, and put the knife in again, this time using the flatter sides to burn at the muscle itself. 

The pain that drove through his body was so intense it was as if he could feel everything and nothing all at the same time. Like a tidal wave of sensations it consumed him, and Joe gasped, the breath literally leaving him from the shear shock of what was happening to his body. He wasn't sure how he managed to stay conscious through it, sheer will he guessed, but it was with madly shaking hands that he took the cloth from the knife's handle and wrapped it tightly around his left arm over the now burned wound. 

Jagged breaths intermixed with cascading shudders tore at him as he sank to the ground, yet still Joe remained awake. Numbly, he stared through the breaks in the leaves above him at the sea of stars over head. There was so many, floating on waves of blackness that held his eyes captivated by their minuet movements. His mind, as weary as it was, refused to relax, and thoughts of a morbid reality plagued him there in the stillness.

It was hours later before he felt the shivers subside and the pain recede to just the arm. With a hesitant sigh he slowly sat up, staring at the blood filled bowl, then down and around him where it had pooled. The bandage was firmly affixed in place and only the tiniest bit of red showed, testifying that Joe had really done it, and as long as he'd gotten all the infection out, it stood to reason it'd heal just fine.

The fire had burnt down to coals, to which Joe added more wood, jostling it back to life. The heat felt nice, and the flames comforting, but he needed sleep he knew. Moving to the other side of the fire, Joe shakily pulled out the tarp and carefully wrapped himself in it so he could still see the burning embers. Yet again, as tired as he was, sleep came slowly, and fitfully, bringing with it images of his brother and every nightmarish thought his mind could produce.

What had in reality been nothing more than a second of realization turned into a hour of anxiety, playing for him the scene of his brother falling over and over until the distortion of his anxieties became his reality. He'd never remember that he had been shoved in the corner of the helicopter, that he had only seen the barest glance of the door opening, that he'd never actually seen Frank's fall.

Rather, in his mind he remembered diving for him only just missing, reaching fingers an inch from each other as he half leaned out the open door. In his mind he could see the look of terror on Frank's face and the whisper of his name as Frank called desperately out to him. 

No, his memories would never again be as things really were.

With a small whimper Joe woke. He hurt all over, emotionally and physically. It was still dark but the fire had completely burnt itself out so it couldn't be too far from dawn. A layer of dew covered the protective tarp and the air felt cold against his already sweaty skin. Joe considered just rolling over and trying to sleep some more, but he knew that even if he could he didn't want to. 

Sitting up, he fumbled about for the pile of wood. There was a sizable blaze going again by the time daylight began to penetrate the jungle growth. It was then that Joe heard the loud rustling in the bushes in front of him and he froze in sudden panic.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Praises must go to you wonderful readers and reviewers! A review means the world to a writer! :D Sorry this isn't a very long chapter. I didn't realize till later that my _natural_ breaking points weren't very, um, spaced out. o.o It's just that-  
*Katchi yawns heavily*  
CairisRin: Stop th-*yawns*-at!  
Katchi: Sorry. *sheepish look* You've been doing all that reading lately that's keeping me up.  
CairisRin: ^.^   
Katchi: Are you sure you should be editing this late, er, early in the morning? You know what happens-  
CairisRin: -.- Go look at the Christmas lights or something! Readers, please ignore my muse, he's had a little too much peppermint, not enough eggnog. 

----

Two things went through Joe's mind at once. That there were animals a lot larger than birds on this island, and that Frank was alive! But it was neither an animal nor Frank who stepped out into his small clearing.

"Well, you're a regular Boy Scout aren't you?" The man drawled out with a smirk. His jeans and shirt were torn in places from scrapes, but other than a layer of dirt and some flecks blood he didn't appear to have any serious injuries. Still smirking, the man made himself comfortable on the other side of the fire and held his hands out to warm. "I didn't think anyone could possibly have survived that crash. But you're a real slugger, kid, a hard one to put down."

"You survived," Joe growled out. It was the fourth smuggler, the one Joe hadn't found in the wreckage. His face burned with livid fury. He wanted to jump over the fire and throttle the man for simply living, living when Frank wasn't. Yet as angry as he was, Joe found himself unexplainably rooted to the ground.

The smuggler shrugged, seeming unconcerned by Joe's silent hostilities. "I had a slightly higher chance. Jumped right before it hit and took my chances with the trees. Paid off, too, though I'll tell you kid, I've got bruises in places I don't ever plan to show anyone!" 

Joe's hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. The man just continued oblivious, "Someone must be looking down on me. Thought I was shish co bog for sure. Still, took me a while to get back up the hill, and then I saw the fire and I knew someone else survive. Decided I might as well see who else was cursed to live on this blasted island with me."

"It's an island then." Joe's voice was low and cold as his gaze boar into the man. He didn't know why he wasn't outright attacking the smuggler, he had every right to, but it was as if all his emotion was so focused that he couldn't even move. 

"That's right, kid. I'm not a killing man by nature, I had voted to leave you and your friend here instead."

"He was my brother." Joe's voice came out even harder than before and he found his fists were clenched so tight they were loosing sensation. 

The smuggler looked across the fire at Joe then, eyes steadily meeting Joe's cold hard gaze. "It's just you and I now. So there's no reason we can't help each other."

"Why should I help you?" Joe ground out. 

The smuggler reached behind him and pulled out a gun and casually rested it in his lap, although the threat was obvious. "You're a survivor, kid. I'm sure you've got more family who'll want to know what's happened. Shame for you to die now after all you've made it through."

This wasn't the first time Joe had ever been threatened by a gun, but this was the first time he didn't care. There wasn't even a moment of fear, no skip of the heart, nothing at all. Yet Joe didn't say anything, and the smuggler took Joe's silence as compliance, slipping the gun back behind him. With a smirk he stood up, his eyes spotting the water hole and immediately going over to it. He was about to reach down and scoop a handful to his mouth when Joe called out sharply, "Don't touch it!" The smuggler turned, eyebrows raised. "You'll contaminate it," Joe stated. His anger hadn't dwindled in the least, and he held no reserve in showing it, but his mind had grasped at something the smuggler had previously said. 'It's just you and I now.' And Joe realized as much as he hated this man, he hated being alone even more. 

The smuggler regarded Joe's silent glare for a minute than shrugging said, "You're the Boy Scout." He walked back to the fire and grabbed up a coconut shell. He used it to scoop up the water to drink, then as Joe had done previously, brought a bowl back to wash his face and hands. 

Throughout this Joe didn't moved, but stared steadily after the man, the tarp still wrapped about him like a protective coat. The smuggler sat back down across from him and gesturing to the blood filled containers asked amiably, "Got any big injuries, kid?"

"I'm alive," Joe replied coldly, then added with a bit more flare, "And my name is Joe. Joe Hardy."

"Aaron Birch," the smuggler returned, keeping his voice conversational. "So. Boy Scout. Found any food?"

Inwardly Joe growled at the man's casualness. Why were the bad guys always so full of themselves! Yet after a moment Joe let his tarp fall from his shoulders and reaching into the folds of another pulled out several pieces of the saved coconut. Handing half of it to Aaron, he began chewing on the rest, trying desperately to ignore the taste. At least it was a little sweet. 

Joe decided then to mostly ignore the smuggler. The guy didn't seem interested in laying dominance over the situation, even with the gun in his possession, and Joe didn't really care even if he did. 

Getting up carefully, and a bit unsteadily, his body still felt like it was in shock, Joe picked up the coconut husk from Aaron and went for more water. He'd need to clean the other stuff before he could use it, and he wanted to see about boiling water in the metal bowl to clean the rags, not to mention his own clothes. He'd have to check his wound, find more coconut, really, quite a bit before he set out... Joe paused, then turned to Aaron and asked. "Do you know where the beach is? From the direction we flew in at?"

"Half a day's walk that way would be my guess," the smuggler replied motioning. "This is a fair sized island really. Would take a few days to really get around it I think." He stood up dusting himself off. "What are you thinking kid?"

"It's where I'm going." Joe waited for the man to tell him he wasn't allowed, but Aaron didn't say anything. 

The morning had almost died away before Joe was finally ready to leave. Much to his surprise, Aaron had helped him every step of the way, even asked Joe what to do. When Joe had demanded 'why' all Aaron would reply was that Joe was the Boy Scout. Joe decided it wasn't worth arguing over the fact that he really wasn't, nor had he ever been, a Boy Scout. 

Dressing in soggy, but refreshingly clean clothes, Joe bent to tie his makeshift pack over his shoulders. It looked ridiculous, torn clothes holding together a bundle wrapped in orange, but Joe figured once he could figure out how to make rope he'd be able to improve it. 

They were leaving the as yet unshaped metal pot and pan at the site, but took everything else, as well as six coconuts filled with water. It wasn't much, but it was enough for the trip to the shore and back. Working out how to carry the water had been the biggest challenge yet. And the first several coconuts Joe had tried drilling just a hole into with the knife had cracked open under the pressure. It gave them enough coconut meat that they wouldn't have to worry about that at least. Something else to add to Joe's mental list. They needed to find something other than coconut to eat. 

Grimacing as he shifted his pack, Joe glanced at his throbbing left arm, the bulge of the bandage showing under his jacket. It was hurting much worse than when the metal had still been wedged in it, but Joe had a feeling this hurt was of the good variety. He turned to Aaron who stood grasping the cloth handles of his own tarp made backpack waiting. "You ready?" Joe asked bluntly.

The man just smirked. "Lead on, kid."

They hiked slowly, following any natural trail they could find that lead in the general direction they were going, and simply pushing their way through the trees and bushes the rest of the time. Joe caught sight of a few tracks, but nothing larger than what naturally resided in the trees. There were a plentiful variety of plants about, only Joe was no Botanist and he didn't have the first clue what was edible or not. He'd handle that problem later. Right now his only goal was reaching the beach. Why, he didn't know, but it drove him forward regardless. 

It was hours later before Joe stepped out of the cover of trees to a bright sun blaring down on his eyes and the soft white sand sinking under his feet. Quickly raising his hand to block the light out, Joe gazed out over the waves of the ocean as they lapped up against the sandy beach, the line of trees stretching as far down as Joe could see. Then he spotted something else and his breath reactively caught in his throat. There was something laying out there on the beach. No, _someone_. And they weren't moving. 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: This is the chapter you've all been waiting for!!! *bounces* That's right! This is the chapter when You Know Who finally shows up!! *bounces*  
Katchi: Voldemort? o.O   
CairisRin still bouncing in place: No silly! :D Frnak!! O.o I mean Frank! *throws Frnak out and tosses Frank in.*  
Frank: Hey! Easy there!!  
CairisRin bouncing even higher now: Sorry, I'm a bit excited.   
Katchi: So we can see.  
CairisRin: Yes, because while normally I'd be waiting till midnight to post this, my sister is treating me to the first showing of Two Towers and I'm not likely to get home till way after 3! *starts bouncing even faster*   
Frank: ~.~ And here I thought maybe-   
CairisRin: Oh don't get me wrong, I'm happy you're in the story now, too! As I'm sure the readers are, so let's get going! *bounces gleefully out the door*   
Frank and Katchi wait patiently. Frank to Katchi: Is she-?  
Katchi: Likely to remember she forgot to post? Eventually.   
Frank: ^.^

----

Joe took off running down the beach as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his chest while a stitch grew in his side, not the in least slowing his progress.

"Hey Kid! What's the rush?" Aaron called out behind him, but Joe stoutly ignored the man, his eyes were fixed on the person ahead of him and it wasn't until he was near enough to make out the person's clothes before he slowed, coming to a hesitant stop a few feet away. A torrent of grief surged up inside him, enough to set a tremor in his hands and drain the blood from his face.

"Frank," Joe's voice cracked, coming out barely a whisper, and he had to fight to keep the tears submerged. It was his brother, in the same clothes as before, limp hands still cuffed together. Completely and utterly unmoving. Every ounce of Joe wanted to run, to flee the horror laid out before him, but he couldn't turn away, his eyes automatically taking in every detail as he fixedly stared at his brother's still body. 

Frank's skin was pasty as much as it was sunburned with lips cracked and dry. Frank's right leg was wrapped in various areas with strips of black cloth, some wrapped around short sticks of driftwood. 

Joe frowned. 

A slightly longer piece of driftwood lay within hands' reach on Frank's other side, the end of it sharpened to a point and a mostly eaten fish carcass next to it. With a start, Joe suddenly realized Frank's jacket was moving ever so slightly up and down in a rhythmic motion. He was alive! The wave of relief was almost as hard to take as the grief had been and he limply fell to his knees next to his brother, tears forming silently in his eyes.

"Frank!" Joe cried out, his voice once again cracking as it choked on the lump in his throat. He grasped his brother's shoulders giving them a good shake.

The response was immediate as Frank came instantly awake with a yelp of pain. Joe didn't let go, for all he'd hoped he couldn't believe it and could only beam down happily and completely overcome with joy. "You're alive!"

"Joe?" Frank's dry voice rasped out as he squinted up at the face hovering over him.

"Well damn!" Aaron exclaimed walking up next to the brothers, an admiring smirk on his face as he regarded the pair. "You boys really are survivors, aren't you?"

Hearing the strange voice, Frank had automatically tried to shift away but that had only resulted in more pain for he suddenly cried out. "Frank, don't move!" Joe immediately told him, blinking tears away as he struggled with his straps to get into his pack. 

Shaking hands picked a the knots until Aaron suddenly took the pack from him, and Joe almost lashed out at the smuggler to get it back in his emotional frenzy. Then Aaron stated calmly, "I've got it, kid." And had the pack undone and was handing Joe a coconut before Joe could really think on it. 

Pulling out the cloth stopper, he helped his brother drink the water inside. Frank had tried to lean up, but didn't get much further than just tilting his head, taking the coconut in hand and greedily draining it of liquid. Joe took it back as Frank questioned in a strained voice. "Joe. What happened?"

"The helicopter crashed," Joe told him still smiling as he look for some of the stored coconut meat now. "We're all that survived." He could really care less that they were stuck on some random island in the Caribbean. Not now that Frank was alive!

"I've got to ask," Aaron stated, coming around to the other side. "How did you do it? The crash was two days ago and I know we weren't flying that low!" 

"Why do you care?" Frank hissed out giving the smuggler a hard cold glare. A glare so much like what Joe had given Aaron the first time they met that the smuggler just laughed.

"You two are brothers! I didn't believe it at first, you don't look a thing a like." He stated with mirth and crouched down asking again. "Come on, how'd you do it? Cause if you ask me, it's like some deity is looking after you both."

Joe watched as disgust enveloped his brother's face, not realizing his own reflection reflected much the same with Aaron. The smuggler's conversation had pulled at Joe, reminding him that while he could care less about himself, Aaron could pose a threat to his brother, and soon his feeling of relief turned to worry accompanied with a new found sense of protection. 

Frank seemed to be sizing the smuggler up but finally answered. "I dock dived, letting my feet break the water's surface. My right leg took the brunt of the impact but I can't move much. I've set all the breaks I could. And I've been eating fish to stay alive."

Aaron picked up the nearby stick, examining the pointed end. "Certainly not gnawed off, got a knife I take it?"

"A pocket knife."  


"Where is it?" Aaron questioned glancing around.

"In my pocket," Frank growled out.

"Here," Joe quickly said, pushing the coconut into Frank's hands. "But I'll tell you, fish sounds pretty good right now," he added with a half smile trying to lighten the mood. Now that Frank was here, and alive, Joe knew they could get through this. They could get through anything together. 

Frank really couldn't move. So much so, that just dragging him up the breach into the shade of the trees had overwhelmed him into temporary unconsciousness. Joe wished it'd lasted longer as he looked down at Frank's right leg and cringed. They had pulled his pants off to get a better view of what was wrong. It was amazing the leg hadn't just shattered. None of the breaks tore the skin, leaving only multiple fracturing in the bones almost right up to the hip. Dark red bruising and careful fingering identified where the brakes were. Joe counted seven. It really should have shattered. Maybe some deity _was_ looking after them. The other leg was barely touched, not a single brake although there was substantial bruising up through the ankle.

"Just do it." 

Joe looked up to meet Frank's determined gaze. Nodding, Joe took a deep breath then began setting the bones as best he could, working from the top of the thigh down. He cringed with every single one, anguish rising in him as Frank helplessly tried to hold in his cries of pain. 

Both brothers were shaking heavily when they were done, and Joe sank heavily back to the sand, letting his head rest in his hands. He listened to their deep breathing for a while, then heard his brother whisper, "Thank you." And Joe looked up to see an approving smile on Frank's pale face. Breathing a sigh of relief Joe smiled back. 

"Don't worry Frank." He told his older brother. "I'm going to take care of you." And he meant it. 

Frank only nodded. Then asked suddenly. "So what's the deal with this Aaron guy?"

Joe looked along the beach the smuggler had disappeared down. He said he'd wanted to see what was about, but Joe was just as grateful for the privacy. "You mean do I trust him?" he asked looking back at Frank. "Of course not. But we're all stuck here aren't we?"

"Dad will come searching for us when we don't make our flight."

"And if he knew we were on some island I'd say 'yay.' But even then there's hundreds to search through and I don't think we're anywhere close to the Bahamas anymore." 

"Joe!" 

Frank's shocked bark pained Joe and he immediately felt ashamed, but the feeling that they were truly stuck here just wouldn't die away. Frank must have seen it in Joe's eyes for after a moment he closed his own eyes sighing. "I'm sorry Joe. I didn't mean-"

"No, it's okay Frank," Joe quickly said, more upset by the expression on Frank's face then by what he believed to be the truth. Forcing a smile, he clapped his brother's arm and said firmly. "You're right, dad will come looking." Frank forced a smile as well, and they left it at that. 

Pulling out more rags, the black strips had been Frank's sacrificed shirt, Joe hunt for something to use as splints. Driftwood wouldn't work, most of the pieces were too short and any long ones weren't straight enough. If Frank's leg was going to heal properly, it needed to be absolutely and completely unmovable. As it was Joe didn't know too much about broken femurs, but had a recollection of someone braking their thigh and needing surgery. He desperately hoped they could do without that. With Frank's prompting, Joe brought back several fallen palm tree fronds and stripped off the leaves only to find the stalks, although a little prickly, straight and as strong as any oak branch. Likely the best they'd find. He quickly set about binding Frank's leg into near absolute immobility. 

It was a while after Joe had Frank settled before Aaron showed up again in the distance, the smuggler jogging back towards them along the beach's edge. "All right boys, time to head back to the site before we start loosing light," he called out as he neared.

Joe shook his head. "We have to stay here. Frank can't be moved, his leg wouldn't hold up to it."

"Joe-" Frank started but Aaron had already begun talking again.

"Sorry kid, but this place is too far from the fresh water. It would take most of the day just to get there and back and no offense Boy Scout, but your coconut water bottles don't exactly hold that much!"

Joe got to his feet stiffening with anger as he faced the smuggler. "I'm not leaving," he ground out. "I'm not leaving my brother!"

Raising his hands, Aaron backed up a step, but he wasn't about to give in. "Whose talking about leaving who, kid? We can't stay here. Even with all the deities of the world looking down on you, I doubt you'd make it. Isn't it better to take the chance at loosing a leg then loosing your lives?"

"Joe-" Frank began again, but was interrupted once again.

The younger Hardy took a step closer to Aaron and told him determined, "We'll be fine here. I'm not moving him! It's too much risk that I'm not willing to take! He's going to be fine!"

Aaron regarded the teenager with a grim expression, shaking his head as if in disappointment. "I didn't want to do this," he said, pulling the gun from behind him where it'd been tucked into his pants. "But it's for your own good you know."

Joe heard his brother frantically calling out his name, but he was already in motion. A blind cold fury had filled him at the sight of the gun. How dare this man try to prevent him from protecting his brother! The young jock tackled the smuggler the best way he knew how, as if he were just another football player on the field. His right shoulder connected with the smuggler's chest as his hands reached for the gun they way he'd reach for the ball, feeling them close around the barrel right as the gun went off. 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: It's not so relevant in this particular chapter, but I before I forget, I really want to thank AuroraDannon for the great help she's been with researching some things with me! :D   
Katchi *innocently*: Who would have thought dinosaurs and coconuts didn't mix?  
CairisRin: ~.~ I also wanted to say I'm changing this story's category to drama/angst. :P My brief moments of action aren't what I'd normally call actiony, and although I've got a few action points coming up, let's face it, this story is bred out of angst, it's basically angst! :P  
Katchi: What's wrong with angst? o.o  
CairisRin: There's nothing wrong with angst, I just had to tell them, you know, give warning-?  
Katchi *grumbling*: Really, if you'd wanted more action, you should have just said something.  
CairisRin: No, I'm fine with the angst. I _like_ the angst.  
Katchi *still griping*: Cause it wouldn't have taken much. I can _do_ action when you want it.  
CairisRin's head falls helplessly into her hands: I want the angst, Katchi.  
Katchi: Well if you're suurree. The next thing I know you'll be wanting a plot, too!  
CairisRin: There _is_ a plot!  
Katchi: Really? Where?  
CairisRin struggles for something to say: It's later, okay?!  
Katchi grins impishly: Don't worry folks, I've got her going now!  
CairisRin: ~.~

-----

A burning sensation sliced through Joe's left palm and he cried out in pain even as he and Aaron fell tumbling to the sand. They rolled around for several minutes, but Joe couldn't get many punches in and had resorted to simply grappling. Then Aaron managed to get a leg in-between them and kicking savagely succeeded in pushing Joe back. 

Breathing heavily but having succeeded in retaining the gun, the smuggler spit at Joe, "You've got a problem kid! You want to stay here? Fine, but I'm not." He got up and grabbing his pack disappeared into the trees.

Thoughts burned with anger as Joe vented his frustration with a fist to the sand. He didn't like the looming threat of Aaron, or more importantly the gun, but was just as glad the smuggler had left. 

It all faded to numbness as he looked back at Frank, realizing suddenly just how quiet his brother was. "Frank?" There was no answer. Blood draining from his face, Joe scrambled back to his brother's side, his heart dropping further as he spotted the bleed of red from Frank's jacket. It was only the sleeve, but a sob still clung to his throat as he tried calling again. "Frank?" Gently he shook his brother's shoulder anxious for a response, _any_ response. 

Frank's eyes fluttered open and with low groan the elder brother softly cursed.

For a second all Joe could do was stare, his brother's expression bothered Joe more than he thought possible, as if it was aimed directly at him. "Frank, I'm so sorry," Joe breathed out. His insides felt like were literally twisting into one big knot and his hands began shaking as a cold wave of grief washed over him. Feeling unsteady, Joe quickly tucked them under his arms. "I'm so sorry," he said, then rambled with increasing fervor. "I know I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have tackled him. I saw the gun, and I wanted to stop him. I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to shoot you."

"Joe!" Frank snapped, grabbing his brother's arm to draw his attention. Hesitantly, Joe met his brother's eyes. Frank's face was even paler than before, but the brown calm gaze Joe had looked to so often in the past was still there. "You didn't pull the trigger." Frank said slowly and steadily. "You didn't shoot me." Joe could only nod, but his conscience wasn't the least bit convinced. He had to make things right. They _had_ to survive. 

Swallowing back his emotions, Joe pulled away and shakily got to his feet. "We need to eat, we need to survive," he murmured looking down the coastline. "I need to get some things." Joe could hear his brother calling to him, but the voice was more like as echo in Joe's head as he stumbled away following the edge of the trees in the opposite direction Aaron had searched. They needed to survive. It was the only thought that seemed to hold any place in his mind as he walked. The sun dried his mouth even as it scorched his skin, although his hands felt frozen so he kept them tucked under his arms. 

Eventually the beach died away, the trees stretching inward as soft curves of stone formed oddly shaped cliffs. Perhaps it was because the rocks provided an ending of sorts that Joe's thoughts finally started to come back to him and he sat down on the obstructing rocky surface in defeat. 

"Joe, what have you done?" He whispered staring at the sand with a slack jaw and en emotional weariness that threatened to consume him. Almost hesitantly he looked up, his eyes automatically following the jungle edge back the way he'd come. He wasn't sure how far he'd walked, couldn't even say how long ago it was. And even thought the sun was still high in the sky, the world felt nothing but disorienting. 

Slowly Joe pulled out his hands, looking at them with a pained expression. They still felt cold, although they had stopped shaking, and the red welt across his left palm was sharp, like a brand. Of all the scars he'd gained from their adventures, none were as obvious as this, and none burned in his mind as much as it had his skin. This was his fault, if he hadn't grabbed the gun, maybe it wouldn't have hit Frank, maybe it wouldn't have even gone off. 

Drops slowly fell upon his hands and it was a long moment before Joe realized he was crying. Silent tears that broke through his shock. 

Closing his eyes, Joe leaned back against the rock, waiting as he felt himself slowly calming down. Eventually the sun warmed him enough that he felt he could move again, even his hands had regained their heat, making the gun burn that much more noticeable, but Joe's mind clung to it now as he would any reminder of something gone horribly wrong. 

He still couldn't believe he'd left Frank like that. He knew he should get back but guilt tugged restlessly at his conscience. Protecting them was his responsibility now and he might as well see what was out here before he returned, pick up what he could. No sense in wasting light.

Climbing over the smooth rock, Joe found one of the more breath taking views he'd seen in a while. The land leaped up sharply before him, the jungles following the curve of the small cliff as they vaulted up to a small peak. Another path went down and perhaps under the cliff face. These islands were known for the occasional sink hole, caves now underwater, so it was reasonable he might find something of the like. At the same time it was just as tempting to climb the small cliff and get a better baring on the island.

Looking along the path of smooth rocks Joe could see bits of marine life clinging to the edges. The tide was still out. That decided him, and he began very carefully to make his way along the ocean edge. The rocks were somewhat slippery but fairly stable and, as Joe explored the bottom of the cliff, he did indeed find large recesses in the stone face although none that reached so far under to create any sizable caves. They did how ever serve to create more than a few tide pools, and with a small sense of excitement Joe found a couple even occupied.

A fish the size of his forearm darted swiftly away as Joe tested the depth of the pool even while keeping clear of a family of urchin that had made the spot their home. The water wasn't fairly deep, but he hadn't put any thought into how exactly he planned to catch the fish. If he went back for one of the tarps by the time he returned the tide would have risen and it would be too late. Even now the waves on the other side were creeping up, telling Joe he didn't have too long. 

Thinking quickly, Joe pulled off his jacket and tied the end of his good sleeve. If he could get the fish in there it'd work like a net, or so he hoped. The bigger challenge soon became not convincing the fish into the sleeve, but avoiding the other, sharper, more prickly, marine life in the pool. By the time he found success, Joe was soaked, half sitting, half leaning over one spiky friend while struggling to hold his squiggling catch high enough to let the water drain out and keep the fish trapped. 

Grinning broadly, Joe slowly waded back to the other side of the pool and back up onto the smooth rocks. The tide had risen considerably and small waves sent bits of water over the side. Clutching his shaking jacket tightly Joe looked further along the trail. He badly wanted to continue on, but he'd be stretching his luck and he knew it, so instead Joe made his way back towards the safer beach side. 

Twice he slipped on the rocks, his feet soggy and loosing grip as each incoming waves wetted the already slick rocks. And at the lowest point Joe had to grab onto the sides of the cliff to keep his balance, moving with extreme caution as he shifted through the already ankle deep water. Any sizeable wave could easily catch his feet and pull him out into the ocean with the current. Next time he came he'd have to make sure the tide wasn't inclined to rise any time soon.

At last, Joe climbed over the last outcropping of smooth rocks then up the shorter beach towards the trees. His jacket still occasionally flipped, but for the most part had become fairly still. Resolutely, Joe tied it around his waist then looked up the small cliff. He was sweating, thirsty, and his muscles were weary to the core, even his shoulder had taken to throbbing painfully, but Joe couldn't turn his gaze away.

He still wanted to climb the sharper rock edge, to see what he could. And, a part of him admitted, he wasn't ready to go back. For all that he had felt literally propelled to the coast, to his brother, the mere thought of returning now nearly sickened him. Shaking off the broody emotions, Joe started his small hike up. He still had time.

It didn't take long to get to the cliff's peak, but to get there Joe had had to go through parts of the jungle while other parts he just climbed the rock's edge himself. Now standing at its top and staring through a break in the trees he could make out a general layout of the island. 

It was decent in size, several miles across, and if there had been no jungle to contend with, wouldn't have taken Joe nearly so long to cross. In fact, he'd come near across the entire stretch already. Or so he guessed since Aaron's 'hill' was clear at the other end of the island. 

It gave him hope. It meant the watering hole wasn't really so far, and if he could forge a big enough path it wouldn't be so hard to make the daily trip contrary to what Aaron had said. Just thinking of the smuggler brought memories of that afternoon back, and sitting down heavily, Joe turned to stare out across the blue horizon. The sun was setting a little off to his right, casting orange reflections on restless waters. 

He turned in every direction he could, but the ocean seemed to stretch off forever. Then out on the horizon something caught his eye, something reflecting the sun and for a brief moment Joe's heart surged with hope. Then it was gone. He squinted, staring for so long at the spot that his vision began to blur, but it didn't reappear and the shadows of sunset were soon darkening that part of the sky. It could have been anything, Joe realized. A boat, an illusion, trick of the light, or even another island just barely visible. 

With a long sigh he felt his hopes drop even lower than before. They really were out here alone. "You're not alone Joe, Frank's here," he whispered to himself, but flinched at his own words. What would Frank think of him loosing it like he had? His brother had been through worse than he and Frank wasn't the one who had _failed_. 

The sharp taste of blood filled Joe's mouth and startled, he realized he'd bit his lip. It was enough to snap him out of his melancholy and with a grim face Joe finally got back to his feet. He'd have to hurry down if he didn't want to get lost in the dark, but it was far past time for him to be returning. He owed Frank at least that much. 

The light didn't quite last long enough for him to reach the beach and it was with dim sight and high paranoia that he moved through the jungle keeping the sound of the waves on his right. It was impossible to tell how far down he needed to go before the cliff met up with the sand and there was next to no light inside the trees. After a while, with the waves sounding louder, and hopefully closer than before, he reasoned he was far enough and broke through the tree line into the starry night light. 

Even as dim as night could be, going from pitch blackness to the glare of a star filled sky was disorienting and no sooner had he taken a step out of the trees then his foot met nothing but air. He'd misjudged, Joe realized with a start even as he lost his balance, and twisted, hands splaying outward to catch at anything that might stop his fall. 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Oiy! I've caught up with myself now.  
Katchi: ~.~ Sorry peeps.  
CairisRin: No, it's not your fault Katchi, this weekend killed a lot of things. But this could be a good thing, too. I can't say when I'll finish the next chapter, but from here on out I'll be posting them as I finish them. So should inspiration hit, you'll know from the string of chapters that are sure to follow. :)

Author's Note 2: I do have some ideas where I want to take this fic-  
Katchi: All right! A plot!  
CairisRin: ~.~ You _are_ supposed to be _my_ muse, right?   
Katchi: ^.^   
CairisRin: Anywho...so the angst might just lighten...might...this story is still very much writing itself. :P 

-----

Sharp jagged rocks ripped through his light shirt and pain shot up his chest like fire. Through some stroke of luck, or chance of fait, his left hand had managed to snag a vine while his right clutched desperately at the rocky edge itself, stopping his fall even as he felt the next wave soak his feet. His left hand gave him a fierce complaint as the grip on the vine rubbed harshly against the burn and his shoulder flared with agony, but Joe gritted his teeth ignoring the pains. Turning, he looked around and down. He hadn't been too far off his mark, the smoothed rocks at the end of the beach within easy sight. The cliff itself was merely a few feet from the ocean and Joe was sorely tempted to just let go and swim around but the next wave discouraged him from that thought as it restlessly soaked him to the knees and tugged at his legs. 

There was enough force behind the waves right now Joe would more likely get pulled the other way and end up with a beating against the cliff face. A beating he didn't need. Joe tested the vine, finding it strong, and determinedly began to pull himself back up. His chest either burned or constricted with each successful inch, both of which took his breath away and threatened to completely sap him of what strength he had left. 

At long last Joe pulled himself over the edge falling between two trees as he gasped for breath. Surprising him, the fish flipped a little against his leg where it was snug within the sleeve of his jacket. It surely would have loved for him to try the other route. Joe laughed, a soft raspy sound, but one full of relief. 

Eyes half-closing with exhaustion, Joe waited till he was sure he had his breath, then unsteadily got to his feet. This time he made sure he was far enough along before exiting the jungle, feet sinking into the soft sand of the beach as he came out. 

Blinking hard to accustom himself to the light, Joe finally began his return trek back. 

------ 

Frank restlessly shifted, again. And again, he visibly flinched as shoots of pain coursed through his leg. The discomfort from the bullet graze barely even registered in comparison and Frank had to force himself to lie still. Again. 

The frustration was almost as bad as the throbbing that existed in place of the daggers when his leg _wasn't_ in motion. Frank couldn't _not_ fret about Joe. It had turned dark awhile ago and still Joe hadn't returned. Frank had seen the expression on his brother's face, the empty look in his eyes. He'd seen how shaky Joe had been, how he'd hid his hands. His brother had gone into shock, Frank knew it, and he berated himself for not doing something more to keep Joe there. There was no telling where Joe was now, or what he might do. 

Shifting once more, Frank growled out his anxiety. Worse than his fears for Joe was the hard truth that he couldn't _do_ anything about it! 

A whisper on the wind caught Frank's attention and reaching with his right hand he gripped the end of a stripped palm stalk. After Joe had left he'd done what he could for himself with what ever was within reach. He'd bandaged his arm and emptied Joe's pack around him. Frank had found the flare gun, but didn't want to waste that and so readied his makeshift weapon in case Aaron appeared. 

The starlight made the beach almost shine in contrast to the black of the ocean and jungle. Along the lit pathway a tall shadow appeared, walking towards him at a steady pace. The shadow was still too far away to see a face, but Frank had worked in the dark enough times with his brother recognize Joe's profile with ease. Sighing with relief he let go of the stalk and almost called out to Joe, then hesitated, unsure how Joe would react. Was he still in shock? Would he even respond to Frank or turn and run?

Then Joe was close enough to see, and although there was a darkness to his brother's eyes that caught at Frank's heart, Joe said lightly, if a bit shyly, "Sorry I took so long."

Frank quickly shook his head. "It's all right. I didn't have any plans." A smile flickered across Joe's lips at Frank's attempted jest, which in turn relieved a little more of Frank's anxieties. Then his eyes caught upon the dark splotches covering Joe's front. "Joe! What happened?"

"Oh!" Joe looked down at himself as if he'd completely forgotten how his chest had gotten so scratched up, which, Frank worried, if his brother had still been in shock at the time he just might have. Joe gave him a rueful look and pushing Frank's concern aside told him, "It looks a lot worse than it really is." He didn't bother to explain but was untying his jacket as he sat down at Frank's side. 

Frank watched his brother silently, taking in every motion and examining everything detail he could see. Joe shook slightly, but he didn't seem to notice, while exhaustion was plain on his face. Physical, mental, or both, Frank couldn't tell, but guessed the latter. And when he could catch Joe's eye, he could see the guilt reflected there, for all that Joe was trying to hide it. Frank wanted to say something, something that would ease his brother's fears and erase that look, but his own mind was blank from pain and worry.

"Joe-"

"I caught us some dinner while I was out," Joe stated not giving Frank a chance to speak. He reached into the sleeve of his jacket with a lopsided grin and pulled out the sizable fish. Despite the smile on his face, the look in his eyes said something else altogether. 

He didn't want to talk about it.

It would have to come out at some point, but Frank was just as glad for a different topic. He returned Joe's slight smile and murmured, "Took me hours to convince them to come near enough to spear."

Openly grinning now, Joe replied. "I had an advantage. Found him in a tide pool down the beach. We might even be able to get a couple fish that way each day if we're lucky." He was holding the fish in his lap now as he glanced about their little spot and at the items from his pack. Then Joe suddenly made a small sound of despair.

"What?"

"I left the pot and pan at the waterhole!" Joe groused but picked up one of the coconut canteens draining it with a look of relief. That left just one to go.

Startled, Frank couldn't stop from asking, "There were pots and pans on the helicopter?"

"More like _out_ of the helicopter," Joe replied. "They were broken pieces from the hull."

"Well I guess you could always go back-" Frank quickly broke off what he was going to say when a look of horror creased Joe's face. "Never mind. We can do without." Frank wasn't exactly sure why Joe was so worried about having a pan anyway, he hadn't found anything in the pack that indicated Joe had something that could start a fire, but in the next few minutes Joe had answered that question as well. 

Leaving the fish with Frank, his brother went to find the 'spear' Frank had been using along with an armload of dried wood products. The younger Hardy dug a small depression in the sand not too close, but not too far from Frank's side and after setting the right bits in, pulled out the lighter from his pocket. He couldn't produce any flame, not after it'd been soaked over and over again in the tide pool, but it did create a strong spark. 

Frank could already see where Joe was heading, and with a sense of pride at his brother's success, grabbed one of the coconuts and began pulling the hairs off to give Joe for tinder. The dry fiber caught with ease and soon a strong blaze was going in their pit.

Like a blanket of heat, warmth spread through Frank's limbs. The sun was hot and scorching during the day, but this was the first night Frank hadn't spent drenched and fighting the cold waves, unable to pull himself further than the tide took him. He sighed with heavily content.

"Frank?" 

Frank opened his eyes to Joe's inquiring voice and smiled. "Thanks Joe. I'm really glad you're here." The words of gratitude were meant to be encouraging, words Frank sincerely felt, but the haunted look in Joe's eyes returned and he quietly turned away. 

Their next task was cooking the fish. Speared upon the stick, there wasn't anything near for it to rest on and Frank insisted they take turns holding it. "There's no reason I can't," Frank told Joe when he looked resistant to the idea. "I may not be able to walk, but I can still do things with my hands." 

It only took Frank's firm words to convince Joe, and Frank was suddenly aware just how tired his brother must be. Joe had slumped on his side when Frank had taken the fish, and he looked ready to fall asleep at any moment. Frank wasn't sure if he should just let him, or force him to stay awake till the fish was cooked. He opted for the latter. "Hey Joe, is there any of that coconut left?" He already knew there was, could even reach it if he wanted to, but the small action was enough to wake Joe up.

His brother pulled out the remaining pieces and handed one to Frank before sitting up and staring into the fire while the fish happily sizzled away. After a while Joe quietly said. "I don't know if I can do this."

Frank wasn't sure if Joe had meant to say it out loud or if he'd accidentally vocalized a thought without realizing it, but he answered anyway, putting as much conviction behind his words as he could. "Yes you can. And I'll always be here to help."

Joe didn't respond, wouldn't even look at him, but with a glance at the fish the look of gloom receded and with a shadow of his old self warmly criticized. "You were never good at cooking fish! It's my turn now."

Frank gave it up with a smile. It didn't take much longer for the fish to cook, and between the two of them they consumed everything edible on it. 

----- 

Joe worked his way through the thick jungle once again with the bright orange pack strapped to his back. He had woken late in the day and not feeling all that much more refreshed, but the more he moved now the more his sore muscle were responding. 

The pack contained only the three coconuts. Joe figured he could make another three canteens that would fit as well before he went back, but when Aaron had taken off they'd lost the flashlight, nor was Joe expecting to find any of the shells or hull pieces left at the waterhole.

He gripped the end of his long ragged makeshift knife tightly, using it to hack at the thick vegetation as he might with a saber. It did little damage, and took more effort than if Joe just pushed his way through, but he needed to start the path at some point and this was better than continuously getting lost with each trip. 

Sweating and dehydrated he stepped from the trees into the small clearing he'd camped in two nights ago. As he suspected the clearing was devoid of anything usable, but there also wasn't any sign of Aaron. With relief, Joe let the pack slid off his shoulders. He needed a break before he got to work. 

It was with weary senses that he got his first hint that something was wrong, but his limbs wouldn't respond fast enough to the warning his mind called. Before Joe could turned around something solid and hard struck him, lacing the back of his neck in pain and dimming his vision as he fell forward, the ground rising to meet him in a dizzyingly kaleidoscope of movement.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Well…it's been…almost four months since I last wrote anything for this story.  
Katchi: Forever.  
CairisRin: ~.~ yes, well, my life has been-  
Katchi: It sucks folks.   
CairisRin: Hey!! It does not! Not completely anyway. *glowers at Katchi* What I'm trying to get at is that I've started writing again. Much due to the efforts of Cutiepie and her continuous poking. *Katchi snickers* -.- I could just blame this on you, you know.  
Katchi: How? I've been on vacation the last three months!   
Cairis: ^.^ 

Author's Note 2: Now that I've gotten going again, I plan to post a chapter once a week till this story is finished. Thanks for being so patient with me folks and happy reading. 

----- 

Joe coughed and squinted tears of pain from his eyes as he turned to look up at Aaron. The smuggler hefted a thick branch from some sort of tree in one hand and briefly crouching picked up Joe's fallen knife. "Sorry kid, I couldn't take a chance after the last ruckus you made." 

He didn't look that sorry to Joe. "What do you want?" The young Hardy brother growled out as he slowly sat up. His head spun, but for the most part his vision was clearing. 

"I needed this," Aaron said giving the makeshift knife a little wave. The smuggler backed up into the open area even while keeping his face towards Joe. "Your brother has that pocket knife, Boy Scout, so I figured you could do without." 

Cautiously Joe rose, first to his knees, then further to his feet. Aaron backed up a little more, his grip on his weapon tightening, ready in case the teenager charged him again. Joe glared daggers at the man, but didn't move. "Why didn't you just go get one for yourself?" 

Shrugging, Aaron replied, "I tried, spent the morning walking in circles looking for the crash site. Figured I was lucky enough to find this place again." He looked hard at Joe. "Look kid, I'll make you a deal. I'm up the creak here on the hill, and if you stay on your side of the island, I'll stay on mine." 

"Sounds fine," Joe replied slowly. He didn't trust Aaron, and he wasn't sure what the smuggler was playing at, but any kind of truce, as flimsy as it was would make Joe feel that little bit easier about things. 

"Good. Well, I'll see you around Boy Scout," Aaron stated, saluting with the knife. The smuggler took off into the trees before Joe could say anything leaving the site as empty as it was when Joe had first arrived. Grabbing his pack Joe moved closer to the old fire pit before settling on the ground again to take his long over due break. 

"Great! Just great!" The Hardy boy grumbled, mourning the loss of the knife. He didn't have Frank's pocketknife with him, nor was it strong enough to drill through the coconuts to create the canteens. He'd have to find another way. Maybe a sharp rock or something. Joe searched about the site, but most of the rocks lining the soft ground were smooth or simply too small to be of use. 

With a sigh of frustration he fell to his back and closed his eyes in despair. "This is hopeless." 

----- 

For a long time Frank just stared up at the sky. He did that a lot back when he first washed to shore and part of him reasoned he'd likely be doing it for some time to come. The older Hardy brother had yet to come to terms with them being lost. Even during his first two days of solitude on the island Frank hadn't worried about it. Or maybe more accurately, he hadn't thought about it. And he didn't want to now, either. 

Fingers brushing at the sand, Frank wished desperately for something to do. Just lying here was getting him nowhere, and if wasn't right for Joe to be doing everything himself. But even shifting the few inches to find a more comfortable position was all Frank needed to be reminded just how immobile he currently was. 

Grimacing he forced himself to relax and waited for his breathing to ease, his eyes once again darting about their little spot. There had to be something he could do! 

An odd sound in the trees above caught Frank's attention and his hand automatically reached for his makeshift club. After a moment of nervous anticipation Frank realized Aaron didn't exactly need to jump him from a tree to have the upper hand. Frank had first hand proof Aaron's gun worked. 

Still wary, he craned his head around as much as possible trying to see what was there. The leaves waved and crinkled and then parted as a bird the size of a parrot hopped down to the ground beside Frank. It hadn't noticed the Hardy and seemed to be trying to pry something in its mouth apart with its toes. Large brightly colored wings briefly fanned out to keep the bird's balance while it stood on one foot. Frank hadn't meant to move, but one of the wings brushed over his injured leg and the tickling sensation was enough to make Frank jerk, which elicited a cry of protest from his mouth. 

The bird squawked, just as startled, dropping its object of interest and hopping back a few giving Frank a nervous eye. Yet it didn't fly away. The wildlife here likely had never seen humans before, Frank realized. And these islands didn't really inhabit any predators for the bird to know to be afraid. 

For several minutes the bird and Frank stared at each other just waiting for the other to move. Then, slowly so as not to frighten the creature off, Frank reached out with his hand for the object the bird had dropped. If it was edible to the birds, chances were good it would be edible for them, too. 

The bird, not too happy with loosing its prize cried with protest, fanning its wings as if to frighten Frank off. "Ack!" The elder Hardy brother realized the bird had no comprehension of Frank, especially with him lying on his back as he was, but the thought of adding 'attacked by a bird' to his list of injuries didn't sit too well with him. He lifted the palm frond club and waved it at the bird in self-defense. The creature immediately took wing, calling out angrily even as it did. 

Frank sincerely hoped it wasn't calling to its friends, but after a minute the sounds of the jungle had returned to normal. Lifting his hand, Frank gave the small object a critical look. It was a nut. In whole a bit larger than a walnut with half of its fruity green covering pealed away. The shelled part was half the size and cracked where the bird had split it. Prying it all the way open Frank pulled out the nut center. It wasn't one he recognized from the grocery stores, so it was with a weary attitude that he bit into the object but it wasn't bad and tasted a lot like an almond. 

It was something at least. 

The sun was halfway between the tree line and the ocean by the time Joe got back. A little longer than Frank had expected, and Joe looked like completely dejected, his face drawn and weary. He was carrying the tarp like one might when gathering the four corners of a square of cloth. Whatever was in the tarp caused it to sag with severe weight, but Joe didn't put it down as he approached. 

"Thirsty?" Joe questioned feigning a smile. 

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Frank asked, "You used the tarp itself to carry the water?" 

"Yeah." Joe looked about then sighing said, "I just haven't figured out how to set it down, yet." 

"What happened?" Frank was already looking about for something that they could maybe store the water in, or tie it up with, but nothing looked helpful. 

"Aaron took the knife," Joe told him, and Frank looked up sharply. "He kind of took me by surprise," The younger Hardy grudgingly admitted. "But he promised to stay up on the hill in exchange." 

"Why?" It didn't make much sense. 

"Who cares?! He's gone now so we don't have to worry about him!" Joe heatedly stated. He was fidgeting extensively and finally sank to his knees giving his arms some relief as he balanced the tarp made water pouch on the ground. He couldn't let go of it without the water running everywhere and so continued to just cling to it. Unfortunately that didn't really give either of them much mobility. 

Frowning, Frank quietly asked, "I guess the coconuts are at the waterhole?" 

Joe nodded not meeting Frank's eyes. "Frank, I'm sorry, I couldn't-" Joe began, his voice cracking with barely contained shame and simple exhaustion, but Frank quickly interrupted him. 

"Joe, it's okay. We'll think of something." Again Frank looked about, they just needed a way to tie it up. "The tarp's long, right? Well, we can just tie the ends around the base of two trees like a hammock. It doesn't really need to be high up, just deep enough to keep the water in." 

Frank watched worried as his brother slowly got back to his feet mechanically doing as Frank suggested. The idea turned out to be far better than either of them thought and they eventually decided to keep it that way. 

For the next couple days the brothers worked hard simply to sustain themselves. Frank had shown Joe the carcass of the nut the bird had left him and Joe had immediately gone foraging. The group of trees the bird had come from thankfully wasn't so far away, and Joe soon located the little green clumps scattered everywhere along the ground. The trees themselves were top heavy and spreading out between the multitudes of palm trees to create most of the canopy within the jungle. Exhausting their supply of nuts wouldn't be a problem, but eating just coconut and nuts might. 

Both of the following days Joe checked the tide pools and came back with nothing so he tried hunting the fish along the shore with the sharpened stick for an hour or so, but it soon became clear that just wasn't going to work, either. 

"Take a brake Joe," Frank ordered when Joe finally came back the second night still empty handed. 

"I can't," Joe automatically stated. "We need more wood for the fire, and I want to see if I can chisel the rock we've been using to split coconuts down to something easier the handle." 

"If you don't take a brake you're going to collapse," Frank told him sternly, reaching out and grabbing Joe's hand. The younger Hardy's face tightened and he looked ready to pull away, but after a moment sank to the ground instead. He looked tired. They both did. And Frank knew they both felt far worse then they looked. 

"How long can we keep this up, Frank?" Joe bitterly asked but then started using the last of woodpile to build the fire up again. Clouds had started to form in the last hour, darkening the sky to shadows of gray and hiding the setting sun. 

"We're going to get through this." 

Joe looked over at Frank. Dark circles hung around tired and angry eyes. "You keep saying that, but I just don't see it." 

"Then don't look," Frank retorted suddenly angry. Hurt and shame flashed across Joe's face and Frank inwardly chastised himself but the anger didn't fade. He'd watched as Joe swung back and forth between fool headed stubbornness and this bitter form of melancholy and through it all Frank was helpless to do anything about it. Every time he tried talking about it, Joe would just leave with the excuse of some task. Even now, the younger brother was moving to get back to his feet, but Frank's hand gripped Joe's again, holding him down. 

"Joe." Frank said meeting his brother's heated gaze with one just as passionate. "You're not alone here." 

If anything, the expression of pain on Joe's face only increased and he murmured, "I need to get more wood." Frank let him go, internally growling with frustration, but as Joe rose to leave the first drops of rain began to fall and the brothers exchanged sudden looks of worry. 

It was their first storm and it wasn't as if they had much in the line of shelter. Nothing, really. "Maybe it won't rain that long?" Frank suggested, but they both looked up at the darkening clouds with equal expressions of disbelief. 

"Frank, what do we do?" Joe asked, immediately coming back, the anger long forgotten. 

Frank looked about. The sand was soft and the waves not so distant. They had to move back into the trees. "Help me up." 

"What? No!" Joe protested aghast. "Your leg isn't even close to being healed enough for you to move!" 

"Well we're going to end up moving whether we stay or go," Frank told him a little harsher than he intended. Joe was still staring at him like he'd just proposed amputation so Frank put his hands under him and gritting his teeth against the pain forced himself into as much of a sitting position as he could manage. Joe finally moved into action and ignoring Frank's cry of pain grabbed his brother under the arm and wrestled him to his feet. 

Hissing in shock from the sudden lift, sometime he forgot just how strong his brother was, Frank tried to keep his weight solely upon his sprained ankle but it was impossible to move even the hip of his other leg and in the end it was all Frank could do to keep from passing out as Joe pulled him back into the jungle depths. 

By the time they found a small spot to stop the rain was falling in heavy droves, drenching them both to the core. In the close quarters of the jungle, the light was dim and the trees claustrophobic while a strong wind pulled harshly at the treetops. The speed at which the storm had blown in had taken both brothers by surprise and as soon as Frank had been set down on the ground Joe had turned back towards the beach. 

"Joe!" Frank immediately called out worried. 

It was hard to see him, yet Joe's voice quickly responded, "I need to get the stuff before it washes away!" And then he was gone, leaving Frank alone in the darkness. 

Fidgeting, Frank roughly tried moving the vegetation aside, but it wasn't being cooperative and he soon gave up. Minutes dragged by with agonizing slowness till Frank began to worry for real. They didn't have much stuff, and even if Joe had needed to make two trips he still should have gotten back by now. 

"Joe!" Frank called out, but the sound of the rain was deafening, muffling all sounds of reply even if Joe had heard him. He waited several more minutes, and called again but still there was no sign of his brother and all Frank could think was that something had happened to Joe. 


	8. Chapter 8

Author's note: Fell a few days behind there...holidays and such like. :P   
Katchi: *Hording a chocolate egg* ^.^ I like Easter.  
Cairis: I like after Easter...when everything is cheap! Anywho...I realized as I was writing this that I needed a fair bit of time to go by before I could get to the next real plot point-  
Katchi: plot? *blinks*  
Cairis: -.- Annnddd...so, this chapter plus likely the next does just that. I also realized I've been ending on cliffhangers this whole time and figured I just couldn't brake with tradition.  
Katchi: That was my idea. *mischievous grin*  
*Cairis points at Katchi and hangs a sign that reads, "Blame the muse."* 

----- 

Lightning stretched across the sky in a sizzling cascade of brilliant light. Joe closed his eyes against the sudden flash and then reached for the next rock. He was almost at the top of the small cliff face, if he could just get there in time... 

Blindly Joe grabbed for another hold, his fingers gripping wet soil as he hauled himself forcibly upward and almost frantically searched the blackened sky. "Where is it!" Joe demanded into the deafening rain. Another flash of lightening ripped through the clouds but it was enough to give Joe a glimpse of the helicopter currently circling the island. 

Its searchlight was merely a dim spot amidst the storm's rage and Joe nearly lost sight of it again as he bowled his way haphazardly down the other side of the hill. He'd spotted it first back on the beach and with a surge of hope had sent up the flare, but his timing had been just off and the helicopter had turned away unseeing. 

Letting out a small grunt as his shoulder slammed into a tree, Joe quickly continued his pursuit weaving his way through the black jungle in search of the island's edge. He just needed to get close enough before he shot the other flare. All at once the trees broke and Joe was running along a wall of rock. 

There, in front of him, the helicopter was turning around again. Making sure he would be seen this time, Joe waited and then fired the last flare above his head. The burst of red light shot upwards almost directly into the helicopter's path, but at the same time the storm threw its own flare. The burst of lightning, as if attracted by the small red light crackled above him, blanketing the sky in yet another blinding spectacle. Shaking, Joe blinked back tears staring heavenward with breathless hope. Had they seen it? 

The helicopter hovered another moment, but all once turned and headed away, back out over the ocean. Shoulders sagging, Joe sank to the ground in defeat. His hands curled into fists as frustration raged through him and for a long time all Joe could do was stare out into the blackness of the ocean too angry to worry about anything else. 

The storm once more lit the sky, the sharp wind cutting at the trees with a howl as deafening as the rain. Turning his face up to the sky, Joe closed his eyes, letting the cold of the rain pound the frustration away, but it wasn't until a piece of lightning hit the water close enough that Joe could actually feel the tingle of the resulting electric charge that he really came back to himself. 

Scrambling back into the tree's edge, Joe looked about as if realizing where he was for the first time. It'd take him a bit to get back to the beach..."The stuff!" It was likely all gone, washed away in the rain, and the flare gun was useless now. Joe groaned. "Frank's going to kill me!" He didn't really think about the logistics of that particular worry, but thoughts of his brother filled Joe with anxiety. Not only had he lost the little stuff they had, but he'd also left Frank alone for a surmountable length of time. Joe knew his brother well enough to know Frank likely thought the worst and only hoped he hadn't done anything crazy...like try to stand on his own. 

------ 

Frank didn't remember when Joe came back, but then, he didn't remember falling asleep, either. He was just relieved that when he opened his eyes his brother was there with him. Not too happy looking mind you, but the younger Hardy smiled when he noticed Frank's eyes were open. "Morning." 

"Morning." 

The storm had passed and the sun was already shinning through the leaves above, but Frank was still quite damp and a tad chilly. His hands were also stinging and while his injured leg felt like it'd fallen asleep, Frank had an idea it wouldn't be too happy when it woke. Confused he looked at his stinging hands. They were a little red, but not terribly so. He remembered he'd tried to get up on his own but hadn't gotten too far with his attempt. But Joe hadn't gotten back yet... 

Frank looked over at his brother, once again catching a glimpse of the sorrow hidden in his brother's face before it was covered by an attempt at bravado. "What happened?" Frank asked simply. 

"I wasn't able to save our stuff." Joe picked up a nearby coconut and handed it to Frank. "I made a couple more canteens. Found another rock that cuts well. And the tarp back at the beach is full of rainwater. They're the only things that survived. Well, expect for your pocket knife and the lighter which were in my pocket." 

Frank took a grateful swallow of the clean water; it was quite a bit better tasting than what they'd gotten from the waterhole. He looked up at his brother, lips twitching with a small smile. "So, we really didn't loose that much then, uh?" Joe looked startled, but after a moment a smile twitched at his lips too, and some of the gloominess in his eyes lifted. 

Joe settled down next to Frank and handed him a handful of nuts as well as a few pieces of coconut. It really wasn't enough, but they'd been surviving on it so far. "I want to go search for a better shelter spot." 

Frowning, Frank regarded his brother. Joe hadn't actually said what had happened to delay him last night, and he had that look in his eyes that told Frank Joe was hiding something. "You might not find anything. What's wrong with this place?" 

Yet instead of the stubborn protest Frank had expected, Joe just grinned, laughter creasing his eyes. "I take it you haven't noticed the nettles?" 

Craning his head about, Frank spotted the nefarious plants and groaned. They were practically surrounded by them. "No. I hadn't. But it does explain a few things," Frank grumbled thinking of his stinging hands. He must have grabbed a few in his struggle to get up last night. They weren't fairly large plants, about as tall as a small fern, but the plant's natural defense caused pain to any who touched their stems and under their leaves. Not something Frank wanted to repeat any time soon. 

Standing up still grinning Joe told him. "I'll be back soon. I just want to check something out." 

"Joe," Frank called out, but his brother had already disappeared through the trees. Check _what_ out? Frustrated to once again find himself alone and powerless, Frank glared up at the calmly waving treetops. The song of a bird reached out to him and Frank only glared harder. 

----- 

Joe broke through the tree line at near the same spot he had the night before. The wind was substantially lighter here, mostly coming from the other direction, and Joe could see that even the waves seemed to be still on this side of the island. He looked up and down the coast and spotted what he'd seen before, but had been too preoccupied to really take notice of. It was a small cove, or better described a small depression in the curvature of the island. 

Making his way carefully over, Joe smiled as he looked down on his find. A wall of rock protected the sides of the small inlet while the trees receded back enough to provide some space and yet still cover the spot somewhat with their leaves. Even better was the pool of water the waves didn't bother. In fact, the more Joe thought about it the more he reasoned that even at full tide the place wouldn't be disturbed too much. 

Crouching down at the inlet's edge, Joe gazed intently down into the murky water. Large smoothed away rocks lined the bottom and it was hard to make much out among the many shadows but after a moment Joe was rewarded with the sight of movement. Not only would it be a good shelter for the Hardy's, but the calm waters made the spot a natural haven for the sea life, too. 

Feeling somewhat excited, Joe quickly made his way back to Frank. The sooner they got moved, the sooner Joe could get to actually catching a fish. 

The move over was painful for both brothers. Joe hadn't quite realized just how exhausted he was until he had to support both of them, but the look of approval on Frank's face when he saw the site made it all worth it. "How did you find this place?" Frank asked through gritted teeth, although he was smiling. 

Joe shuffled a little uneasily, and then with shrug said, "I was exploring earlier and noticed it." He was sure Frank didn't believe him, but his older brother said nothing and leaned back against one of the trees. Joe wasn't so sure why he was so reluctant to tell Frank about the helicopter. Frank had been so sure they'd be rescued one day that Joe just didn't want to disappoint him. It was hard enough thinking how close the helicopter had been that Joe didn't want Frank to go through the same anxiety he was feeling over it. If only he'd gotten closer before using the first flare. 

"There's fish here. After I get the water I'm going to try and catch one," Joe stated distracting himself from his own brooding thoughts. 

"Have you thought of how?" 

He hadn't. Joe looked around. This wasn't a closed off tide pool for the fish to be stuck in so chasing it around with his jacket wasn't going to work. "I'll find a spear or something." 

"A net would be better." 

"We don't have a net." Joe frowned. Why was Frank smiling? He had that deep thought look on his face that said he was thinking of being clever. 

"We can make a net," Frank told him simply. 

"Frank," Joe groaned. "I have a hard enough time with everything else, it'd take forever for me to make a net!" 

Frank glared at him. "What am I? An invalid!" 

Yes! But Joe didn't say it and visibly grimaced at the chastisement. He'd been doing everything for so many days now he hadn't even considered Frank would do it himself. "It'll still take a while." Joe stubbornly stated. 

"Believe me, I have the time." 

So that afternoon Joe searched about for the right materials that Frank would need. The island was covered in fibrous plants of one kind or another and it didn't take too long for Joe to collect enough of an assortment to leave Frank with something to do for quite some time. The elder Hardy had insisted on sitting rather than lying down so he could work better, but the grimace on his face worried Joe. 

"Are you sure you're all right like that?" Joe asked dropping his last armload down beside his brother. 

"I'm fine," Frank growled out startling Joe. Then Frank sighed, saying, "I'm just tired of staring at trees all day." 

Joe's lips twitching into a grin. "Well now you can watch me fish." 

"What are you going to use?" 

"A spear. I've seen it done before, I'm sure I can do it." Joe was determined they were going to eat fish tonight. He wanted to get going right away, but was still worried about Frank and hesitant to leave again until he noticed the small hint of laughter in Frank's eyes. 

"I'm sure you can," Frank said to him encouragingly, but Joe could hear his brother's silent laughter and gave him a mock scowl. 

"And I will." He strode off to find his spear. A lot of driftwood had been washed up on the beach after the storm. Most of it wasn't too usable, but Joe finally found something that he felt would work. Using the pocketknife Joe carefully honed the end of his spear to a point and made his way back to their little cove. 

It was a lot harder than Joe had guessed. He tried throwing the spear at the fish only to have it bounce unsuccessfully off the bounders. And every time Joe had to wade into the water to retrieve the spear he had to wait a while before seeing any fish around again. After the fifth attempt Joe tried instead to just stand in the water and try jabbing the fish from there as they approached. That didn't work either. The mere motion of the spear moving through the water was enough to push the fish out of the spear's path even when his aim was true. 

After a while Joe finally just tossed the spear up on the stony bank and instead waited half buried in the water. He was almost completely frozen before a fish finally approached close enough. But with determination fueling his motions, Joe dove for his prey, numb fingers sliding around the small slippery form in seconds. With one quick haul Joe managed to pull the fish out of the water and toss it towards the shore. 

"Hay!" Frank cried out as he was suddenly pelted by the flying fish. 

"Sorry," Joe called to him, but didn't stop himself from grinning. After hours of failure he finally had caught something. It wasn't large, but it was something. And Joe spent the next hour or so as frozen as a Popsicle, but successful with catching at least two more fish. 

They had no problem obtaining enough food to survive on after that and the two boys settled into something of a routine over the next week. While Frank still couldn't move much, he tended the fire and worked on his net. He'd also woven rope and made slings for Joe to tie the tarp with. They'd lost the second tarp to the storm and decided the one was big enough to cut in half and still be effective. One half they used to store and catch rain water while the other Joe used as a bag. Then the second one got cut down again to create a cartable water bag and a more normal carrying sack. 

Joe did all the strenuous labor, but he quickly became accustomed to it and it soon became nothing at all for him to spend half the morning carrying water from the waterhole and the other half collecting nuts and coconuts. Catching fish tended to take up most of the afternoon, at least while Frank was still working on the net. 

The real test came when another storm finally blew in. It wasn't nearly as bad as the previous storm had been, but they were still pleased to find their little sheltered area held up quite nicely. While they still became quite thoroughly soaked, the wind barely touched them. 

"You know," Frank said as they sat in the rain calmly watching the storm's light show across the water. "I think with a bit of time I can make enough rope that we could even make an actual shelter of sorts." 

Joe looked over at his brother surprised to see a small smile on his face. The storm had reminded Joe of the failed rescue attempt and brought with it a whole brood of suppressed emotions. For some reason seeing Frank smiling right now really bothered him. Hadn't it been Frank who had insisted they'd be found against Joe's disbelief? Joe wondered when the roles had reversed and quietly turned back to watch the storm pass harmlessly by. 

The next day Joe went back to the beach and using the driftwood formed the word help on the sand. When he was done he looked at it carefully. There was a chance someone might see it. It was something at least. He was still quite broody for most of the day, and while he easily fell back into his routine that afternoon, instead of fishing, Joe promptly announced that he was going for a walk. 

"Be careful," Frank immediately warned. "Aaron's still out there." 

Joe didn't reply but hurriedly left. Aaron hadn't even crossed his mind. It'd been nice to forget about the man for a while and hearing the smuggler's name only added anger to Joe's depression. 

At first he just let himself wander wherever his feet carried him, but after a while, Joe started actually exploring the island. He stayed carefully away from the 'hill' that Aaron said he'd camp on, and so explored much of the center of the island as well as further around the coast. He even found the plane wreckage again. As he'd expected the jungle growth was quickly invading the remains, but the smell of death was still strong enough to cause Joe to gag and reel away in horror. 

There was just no way he was going back there, and mentally marking where it was in his head, Joe moved quickly away following the route he originally had taken to the waterhole. It was quiet and still and familiar, and after a few minutes to let his insides settle back into their proper places, Joe set out again in the opposite direction. 

The light was starting to wan when Joe came across a pocket of odd-looking trees along with something that looked quite familiar. Joe picked up one of the split fallen fruits from off the ground and cautiously smelled it. It looked and smelled like a papaya, but in truth, he'd only had papaya on the odd occasion and these were much bigger than any he'd ever had. The ground was covered with the large fruits and for the most part taken apart by the local bird life. A good sign that even if it wasn't the fruit he thought it was it was still edible. 

Searching around Joe managed to find three unblemished fruits and hefting them in his arms headed back to their site. It was dark by the time he got back, but Frank already had a fire going and eagerly greeted. "Guess what I finished?" 

"The net?" Frank nodded and Joe grinned dropped the fruits next to the fire. "I've got something new, too." 

Frank's eyes widened in delight. "Are those papayas?" 

"I think so" Opening one up and tasting the sweet meat inside it basically confirmed that they were. They didn't have fish that night, but they had something just as good. 

"So let's see this net," Joe said around a mouthful of nuts and fruit. Even the coconut didn't taste as horrible as it usually did. Frank held a part of it up for Joe to see. It wasn't exactly pretty but it looked functional. 

"I'm thinking we'll need to tie some rocks to it to weigh it down, and it might be a bit awkward for just one person to handle..." Frank trailed away deep in thought as a small disconcerted look crossed his face. 

Trying to sound reassuring, Joe quickly stated encouragingly, "I'm sure we'll figure it out." With the discovery of the fruit Joe had managed to loose most of his dark thoughts and he was desperate to see his brother happy right now, but Frank didn't return his smile as he'd hoped. 

"Joe? Why do you think Aaron only wanted your knife?" 

Joe's smile fell instant and the gloomy feelings returned with a vengeance. "Why bring him up, can't we talk about something else?" 

"Think about it Joe, why only the knife, why not the lighter? Fire's just as important here." 

"Maybe he didn't know I had it," Joe argued, increasingly uncomfortable with this subject. "He never actually saw me use it." 

Yet Frank wasn't satisfied and outright stated. "I think he's hiding something." 

"Like what?" 

"The diamonds most likely." 

"So?" Joe demanded. "What does it matter? We're stuck here Frank and there's nothing we can do about it!" He turned away upset and unwilling to see Frank's expression. He didn't know why it was bothering him so much, Frank was just doing what they'd always done before, reasoned things out. And with some thought he would have to agree with his brother, Aaron was hiding something, but right now, that just didn't mean anything to him. 

"Joe." 

For one very long minute Joe considered just not answering, but the frustration was only growing and Joe knew soon he wouldn't be able to keep control over his emotions. He'd been suppressing so much without even realizing it that it was all just surging forward with relentless fury. 

"Joe," Frank said again, softer. 

Throat painfully constricting, Joe finally turned back to his brother, for once grateful for the rain as it hid his tears. "I don't want to talk Frank." 

"All right." Then his elder brother leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the rain gently washed his face. They sat in silence for a bit, and then Joe heard his brother quietly say, "I don't want to be here, too. But I don't want to loose myself either." 

Frank hadn't moved, and so Joe didn't respond, but Frank's words stuck in his head and he spent half the night awake thinking. 

The rain let up sometime close to dawn. It was hard to tell since the clouds didn't part till the late afternoon, but between the steady warmth and sheer amount of time that Joe spent in the water fishing, he had long ago stopped worrying about getting dry. 

It was still well into morning before Joe actually woke up. He was surprised Frank hadn't woken him, and rolled over to tell his brother just that only to find the spot Frank usually resided in vacated. A surge of panic brought him instantly to his feet, and a moment later relief washed through him as he spied his brother close by. 

Frank was sitting on one of the larger rocks lining the inlet with his net half draped over him and half in the water. 

"Frank! Just what do you think you're doing!" Joe demanded, angry with concern. 

Yet Frank just looked up at him and smiled. "Good, you're awake. I really think this will work better with two people." 

"Frank!" Joe exclaimed exasperated. "You shouldn't be moving about or your going to hurt yourself. I could have done this, you could have woken me." 

"It'll still work better with two of us," Frank told him trying to sound reasonable. "I couldn't very well stay there my whole life. And besides, my leg doesn't hurt as much anymore." 

"You mean you can ignore it better now," Joe corrected. 

Frank shrugged. "Come on. Get in, I want to try this out!" 

The net was a great success, and Frank was right, it worked much better with two of them then it would have for one. Within just an hour they'd already caught three fish and promptly eaten them raw. Finding dry fuel for a fire would have taken too much effort, plus Joe already planned to go back to that patch of papayas he'd found. 

"So now that the net is finished, what do you plan to do?" Joe questioned with a grin as he got out and tried straining the excess water off. 

"I guess I'll make another one. Or think of a way to make a thatch roof or something." 

"What about a lobster trap?" 

Frank just gave him a look then calmly asked, "And have you seen any lobsters around?" 

"Good point." Joe grinned and then laughed. Their success had made him feel amazingly good, even more because it was something they had done together. For the first time Joe actually felt normal inside. Still grinning, Joe grabbed up the water and carry sacks, filling the first with some of the collected rainwater. By the time he turned back Frank was already inching his way back. "Do you-" 

"No." Frank's response, while abrupt, was quite clear. He was doing this on his own. 

"I'm going to go pick up some more supplies. Be back later." The thought of Frank hurting himself, especially now, worried Joe, but he knew this was important to Frank. It was what his brother had said the night before that had really reassured Joe. The idea of loosing oneself wasn't something Joe fully understood, but independence he did, and he'd spent a fair bit of the night trying to imagine himself in Frank's position. Joe was sure he wouldn't have been so patient. 

The day warmed up pretty quickly, even without the sun and Joe was soon sweating as he walked around lining the bottom of his sack with nuts. By the time he'd reached the tropical orchard of papayas he'd already drunk half his water supply. 

Coming out of the surrounding jungle Joe disrupted a group of birds having their afternoon meal. They briefly took to wing with startled cries but quickly resettled. Eyeing them warily, Joe cautiously moved around the flock checking for whole fruits. The birds basically ignored him. 

Unfortunately, the birds also had pecked and pocketed near all the fruit that lined the ground. Refusing to be discouraged, Joe examined the trees. The stood a couple feet taller than himself, and the fruits were only just out of reach. He needed a ladder, or something he could stand on, but nothing around looked like it would work. 

"I wonder if Frank would have ideas for a rope ladder," Joe mused out loud. He still didn't want to go back empty handed and collecting a bundle of fronds from the neighboring palm trees tried to create a mound he could stand on. 

It wasn't too steady but if he reached up to his full extent his fingers could just reach the green stem holding the papayas in place. He yanked on the fruit itself, but it didn't want to come free, so Joe pulled out the pocketknife and tried cutting at the stem. A milky sap dripped down his fingers, but the fruit finally came free. It was much firmer than its fallen counterparts, likely not ripe yet, but a couple days in the sun would easily change that and Joe reached to cut off another. 

The stretch up was precarious to say the least and again the white sap dripped down his hands, but the fruit came off with a jerk and Joe let out a startled cry as he lost his footing, once again upsetting the local birds. He chuckled at their scolding and put the papaya with the other one in his bag. Tired, he rubbed at the sweat in his eyes. 

It was a mistake he realized a second too late. Like an explosion of pain Joe's eyes teared up and he cried out for real this time. They burned as if every nerve had suddenly exploded. The shock was so strong that Joe didn't even feel himself hit the ground and it was by instinct alone that Joe's hands sought the water sack. 

He forced his eyes open as he poured the cool liquid on his face, and at first the water only seemed to antagonize the burn, but after a moment the pain began fading if just a little. Pulling in uneven breaths Joe waited for it to pass, all the while chastising himself for being so careless. He hadn't even thought about it, but then, he'd gotten used to having dirty hands, it just hadn't occurred to him that the sap would have a reaction like this. 

Joe wasn't sure exactly how much time passed, or how long it was before he realized his eyes were in fact open. With fear Joe experimentally waved his hand in front of his face. His eyes were still watering freely, but they _were_ open. He could just make out some flicker of movement, but it wasn't enough and realization hit Joe like a rock. He was blind.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note_: 3 years ago I left Joe blind. Sorry Joe. Today, I bring to all of you a new chapter for the story all of us (including myself) wondered if I'd ever finish. Unfortunately, Joe's still blind. Sorry Joe.

Thank you everyone for your patience, and sticking it out. I'm on a HB binge, so hopefully the coming weeks will bring you a great many more cliffs- cough, chapters. :D

x.x.x.x

The pain had a rhythm to it.

Joe had experienced many injuries throughout his life, but nothing felt quite like this. It was as if he had a hundred needles in his eyes. Every breath brought pain and every movement, a wave of dizziness. Nausea threatened him as his nerves flared to life.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. He let them, clenching his hands to keep from rubbing at his face, to keep from digging his own eyes out. It was all he could do to stay calm. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that made them hurt even more. And it didn't solve his biggest problem. Open or shut, it made no difference. His vision was a black blur, with shots of red appearing in time to the throbbing stabs of pain.

"Breath, Joe," he whispered with shaky shallow breaths. "You just…have to…figure…this out."

Working anything out was hard while the needles worked their way from his eyes into his head, down his spine and through every muscle he had till they numbed. He was caught in that pain for an eternity, feeling every movement, seemingly every beat of his heart. Joe sucked in a sharp breath, and suddenly his heartbeat changed, skipping a beat, messing up the rhythm, and in that moment he almost lost it to the panic. A miracle in itself kept him still. Kept him breathing. And finally, his mind came up with a reason for what was happening. What ever was in the milky sap was affecting his nervous system. Joe imagined this felt much like the beginning effects of someone exposed to a nerve toxin, but that was far more lethal. It took a while to convince himself that only his eyes were really being affected, and more importantly that he wasn't in any danger of dying just then.

Inflamed optic nerves might also explain the blindness, he reasoned, further resolving that if he could bring the swelling down there might not be any permanent damage. Even to him this seemed overly optimistic, but it was something to think about other than the pain. Carefully his hands searched for the tarp canteen, remembering with disappointment that he'd already emptied it in his first attempt to wash his eyes out.

What he needed was water, but the only water he knew of was the ocean or the watering hole. Both of which seemed impossible to reach.

"This sucks," Joe despondently remarked. The nearby bird responded with chirps that sounded much like an agreement to Joe.

Whatever bit of normality he had gained in his life fled then, and as when he'd first woken up on this forsaken island, despair hit him. Despair, and the heart wrenching loneliness he'd fought with so much over the last week. He didn't know if he could go through this. It didn't seem worth it to Joe.

Again the tears flowed down his face, as much from his internal struggle as from the burning in his eyes. But eventually both eased. Breathing steadier now, Joe murmured despondently, "Guess I can't wait around forever." He didn't feel much like moving, but he knew Frank wasn't coming. Frank was even more stranded than he was.

Realization hit Joe full in the face. How was Frank supposed to survive without him there? His brother could barely move, shouldn't even have moved what little he had so far. Joe couldn't believe he'd let his brother down, again! Anger curled his fists, and he hit the ground hard with one hand.

Unseen birds reacted to Joe's sudden movement, startling him just as much, but the anger wasn't unwilling to fade. "Damn it! Damn it! _Damn it!_ Why can't I do anything right? He's my brother. I'm supposed to be watching his back!"

Fresh tears ran unbidden down his face. This time they were tears of anger and frustration. He was tired of constantly failing. With a new determination, Joe forced himself to think past the pain, past the despair. All he had to do was come up with a plan. "The water hole is closer, but it wouldn't take much to miss it completely. The ocean is further, and through an area I haven't explored yet."

Frank would take the sure option, even if it was the more dangerous one. Or so Joe hoped, because that was what he decided to do. "I'm not going to let you down this time, Frank," Joe silently promised, but had to blot out the thought that he already had. Even if he reached the ocean tonight, which was unlikely, he'd have to take the long route back around the island to reach Frank, and that could take a couple days.

Joe didn't even want to consider what he would do if he never did get his vision back.

"I just need some water to bring the inflammation down," he reasserted in his head, trying to convince himself as best he could that it was true.

Having made a plan, Joe set out hunting for his things. He packed as many of the papayas he found whole or mostly whole on the ground in his makeshift bag, slung the empty canteen over his shoulder, and pocketing the knife, set out.

If took a few moments before he was sure he was heading in the right direction. Thankfully his visual memory was astute as it had always been. A side affect of growing up a detective's son, Joe guessed. He and his brother had always had an eye for detail, and things out of place. It's generally what got them into trouble half the time.

"But not this time," Joe grumbled. "This time it was all me."

x.x.x.x

Frank began to worry when the sun started to set. "Joe, where are you?" He quietly questioned, but only the near distant chirps of the birds responded. Feeding himself hadn't been a problem. They had enough fruit and nuts still to cover the morning, and he could ration that further if he needed to.

Critically looking down at his bare chest he felt the ridges of his ribs. They were starting to become alarmingly visible. Forced diet and a severe lack of exercise hadn't just shrunk his stomach, but seemed to be shrinking him, too. Absently, Frank wondered if he'd shrink down below Joe's height when this was all over.

Realizing his was being silly, Frank silently chuckled, his eyes worriedly scanning the edge of their little clearing once again. Joe would have a hard time getting back in the dark. It wasn't so bad on the edge of the island but inside the trees it was pitch black.

Adding more wood to the fire, Frank poked it back to life. He never let it go completely out when he could help it, saved them the effort of getting it going again, and as unlikely as it was, Frank silently hoped it could serve as a beacon for Joe. "If he was smart, he'd camp down for the night and come back in the morning," Frank murmured. As much as his brother was a little headstrong, Joe _was_ smart. Joe also would have come back before sunset, if he could have.

Closing his eyes, Frank forced those thought away. Joe will come in the morning. "I should probably get some sleep," Frank remarked to himself more than anyone, especially since it seemed the birds were all doing much the same. Yet, as much as Frank lay all the way down to sleep, his eyes never left the forest line.

Frank had no sense of time. He'd lost his watch in the ocean. But to him hours went by before his finally drifted off. His dreams were a jumbled mix of worry and nightmare. Images that, when he awoke to the heat of the sun on his face, left him with more troubles than he wanted. His head pounded, his gut felt empty, his leg was throbbing like crazy, and his soul was wracked with worry. To make it worse, Joe still hadn't come back.

"He probably just woke up, too," Frank quietly tried to convince himself. "He'll be back before noon." Whenever noon was.

Days on the island had never been exciting. Most of the time Joe wasn't there, anyway, but at least Frank had an idea of where he was. And always, Joe came back. So, Frank acted as if that day were no different than all the rest. Save for the exception of eating less than normal -what could be called normal out here anyway, just in case it needed to stretch.

Grabbing the long fibers he had left over from the net, Frank worked at braiding it into a length of straight rope. It was busy work. For once, he had no idea what he wanted to accomplish, but even just a straight coil of rope had to be useful for something. Mostly, it was a distraction for Frank, generally, from the pains that rippled up his leg and caught at his chest, and now, from the worry that ate at his mind. Moving around the day before had cost Frank more than he'd ever let on.

Even now small spasms tormented the nerves and muscles of his leg. Frank put the fibers down and rubbed at it as best he could. It didn't help. Then, with a deep, calming sigh, Frank began untying the makeshift splints. It would have been easier if Joe had been there to help, but Frank was just as glad his brother wasn't.

Not once had Frank pulled the bandages away to check on his leg. Fear told him the pain was hard enough to deal with. And his all too logical mind told him to _expect_ to find gangrene. It would be a miracle to _not_ find it. His mind quickly went through the same set of questions he'd contemplated each time he thought of actually looking at his leg. How much gangrene could a person develop before it killed them? How long could someone with gangrene survive? How fast did gangrene spread? Could he survive an amputation if they had to cut the leg off? Could they really cut the leg off? It's not like they had an ax or a bone saw.

It was those thoughts that first prompted Frank to attempt moving the day before. If he moved around some he could get the blood flowing, and the muscles working again. But his plan seemed to backfire. The pain had been almost more than he could hide, and the way his leg was throbbing, even now, the next day…

Frank carefully pulled away the last wrap and for the first time really _looked_ at his leg. It was a mess of colors, from yellow to purple. In Frank's mind, each bruise identified a different brake. He really didn't know if that was true, but it was something he could identify with. Looking down the length of his leg, Frank wiggled his toes. It wasn't as painful to do as he was expecting it to be, but he did notice that his pinky toe didn't move, nor the one next to it. Scrunching his face, Frank tried again.

Pain laced up his leg, and still the pinky toe wouldn't budge. Frank sighed. "What's a toe, anyway," he grumbled. It wouldn't make a difference if he _did_ have gangrene. Frank wasn't sure if he should look for green patches, or gray patches of skin, so he looked for both, slowly examining every part of his leg he could. There were parts of his leg he'd never be able to look at, and they were the most susceptible areas, too, being the lowest point of gravity. But everywhere he _could_ look seemed healthy to Frank. He wasn't a doctor, but the majority of the bruises had subsided, which indicated circulation, and everywhere reacted to his poke test. Some places a lot more than others. At last, he tried to bend his leg, but gave up on that idea as fast as it popped into his head.

Maybe a miracle really _had_ happened. Or maybe the purple areas were covering up the gangrene. Frank fretted about it for a bit, but aside from popping actual holes in his skin in an attempt to 'drain the blood from the bruise,' he couldn't come up with a single idea about how to tell the difference.

"Besides," he told himself bluntly, "even if you have it, there's nothing you can do about it."

It was hard for Frank to accept that fact. He's always been someone who felt there was a solution to every problem, no matter how dire the circumstances. He just had to find the solution to this one. Ever so carefully, Frank began retying the splints back around his injured leg.

Perhaps water would help. The idea brought to mind an article he'd once read about how patients who spent time each day in a saltwater bath healed faster. The buoyancy of the water helped with the circulation and the salt pulled the toxins from their bodies, or something like that. Frank had his own private saltwater bath right there in the inlet, but the problem was getting there. Maybe when Joe got back they could manage it. Frank felt he needed to try _something_.

But until Joe got back, Frank was as helpless as always. With a sigh he picked up the strands of fiber again. At least it was something to do.

x.x.x.x

Joe was exhausted. He had tripped and fallen more times than he could count, but he didn't dare move any faster than he was already going. Joe reached for the next tree, carefully feeling his way out in front of him with both his hands and feet. He'd expected to have reached the ocean by now, but for all he knew, he could have turned himself around so many times he end up where he started. His foot caught on yet another root and Joe stumbled to the ground.

This time he stayed there, breathing deeply. He'd slept through the coldest of the night, but traveling like this seemed to be sapping any energy he had. Deciding this was as good a time as any to take a break, Joe broke into one of his three remaining papayas. The juice from the fruit was sweet but quickly quenched his thirst. He wouldn't last long without water if he wasn't careful, but the fruit helped. While he was there, Joe felt around for a coconut. He knew how to find them even blind now. Their shape and feel was unmistakable, and with the pocketknife in hand, Joe pulled one apart. He felt around for a sharp rock to help crack the inner shell, not wanting to risk chipping the knife. Ignoring the sticky milk that covered his hands, Joe set about carving out the coconut meat and adding it to his pack.

Everything was slower in the dark. His fingers shook, from nerves or a lack of confidence in his own movements, Joe wasn't sure, but it seemed to make everything harder to do. "You're just psyching yourself out," Joe criticized. Yet, even hearing his voice in the dark wasn't much comfort. In fact, it made things worse.

Taking a moment's pause, Joe sat there listening to the jungle sounds surrounding him. The loudest was the wind. Only the occasional breeze touched his face, but it sounded like a torrent as it rustled the treetops. The call of birds gave him some sense of direction as his ear picked out one noise from the other. But the thing with birds was they moved, a lot. And without being able to see, the occasional creak of the insect world creped him out.

Joe held his hand up in front of his face, as he had any time he stopped, hoping beyond hope to be able to make out some kind of shadow or image. Red flashes occasional interrupted the blackness, but it wasn't from anything he _saw_. The pain that flared through his head was testament to that.

"Well, I'm not helping Frank any by just sitting here," Joe resolutely stated out loud. Thinking of his need to get back to his brother was the only thing keeping the despair and panic as bay. He held onto it as firmly as one might a life preserver. Making sure his sack was secure around his shoulder, Joe got back to his feet. He needed to get back to his brother, and he needed to get back, _now!_

It took a minute of thought to be sure he was going in the direction he had been before he stopped, but soon enough Joe was back to making his way through the jungle. With the fruit, came a small burst of energy, and he used it to try and make up some of his lost time.

Perhaps it was that, that lead him to taking that step one too far. His hand in front of him couldn't find the next tree, and the ground below his feet seemed softer. Elated at finally finding the ocean, Joe let go of the tree behind him and stepped boldly out into the open. Almost immediately his feet sank, right down past his knees, and Joe stumbled, unable to really fall, as the ground seemed to suck him up.

Panic flashed through Joe Hardy's mind as he instantly realized a great many things, the one for certain, was that this was definitely _not_ the ocean.


End file.
